What a Spinster Wants Page 9

  “I h-hope that m-makes you m-m-more comfortable,” Prue offered, trying for a smile as she absently massaged her abdomen.

  Edith gave her sweet, timid friend a look. “If only the thing made you comfortable, Prue.”

  Prue’s smile turned more genuine. “N-nothing makes me c-comfortable lately. At all.”

  The quip did more to settle Edith than anything thus far, if for no other reason than because it was still refreshing to have Prue verbally spar along with the rest of them. Once, she wouldn’t have done so, but her husband had brought confidence into her life along with his love, and the change had been extraordinary.

  Edith could only pray for a similar change in her life. Not to give her confidence, or to settle her nerves, but to change her for the better. To improve her situation enough to remove her fears.

  But a husband she’d had, and there hadn’t been anything helpful in that.

  “It is better than being force-fed a companion,” Edith admitted reluctantly, her thumbnail clicking underneath that of her index finger in a nervous tick. She sighed heavily and sniffed. “I so dislike having no control or say in my own matters.”

  “So do I,” Charlotte moaned in sympathy, putting a hand to her brow. “Only yesterday, Mama approved the final details of my new ballgown without consulting me and having no idea what I wanted. It’s too late now, so I can only pray she made the right choice.”

  Grace looked at Charlotte with wide, disbelieving eyes, and Edith dropped her head with a soft snort of amusement. “How in the world is that the same thing, Charlotte?” Grace demanded.

  “Why do you need to ask?” Izzy answered before Charlotte could. “It’s Charlotte.”

  The room laughed, Charlotte included, and Edith’s haunting memories and fears faded from her mind.

  For the moment.

  “That’s better,” Charlotte announced with a smile at Edith. “It’s been an age since I’ve seen a genuine smile from you.”

  Edith managed to smile back. “It seems an age since I’ve been able to wear one.”

  Steps in the corridor drew their attention, and Edith felt her pulse skitter at the sound.

  “Miss Perry to see you, Miss Wright.”

  Charlotte didn’t even bother to thank or dismiss her butler as she rose and dashed to the door. “Amelia! I’m so glad you could come!”

  If she hadn’t been announced, Edith would never have guessed the young woman entering was Amelia Perry. The girl she remembered was a robust, lively, healthy woman with a glow of good nature about her at all times. She would never be the most beautiful woman in the room, but anyone would admit that, when taken altogether, she was resoundingly pretty.

  This lass was pale, somber, and thinner than Edith had ever seen her, though she was not yet sickly in appearance.

  The contrast was stark and nearly horrifying.

  “Thank you for inviting me,” Amelia replied with a flimsy smile, her voice almost the same as it had been before. She looked around at the room timidly. “I’ve always wanted to come to a meeting of the Spinsters.”

  “Well, here we are!” Elinor gestured grandly before giggling and shrugging her shoulders. “Not nearly as impressive as we ought to be, but there it is.”

  Charlotte propped her hands on her hips, huffing playfully. “I beg your pardon. I am very impressive.”

  Something about Elinor and Charlotte’s behavior pricked at Edith’s thoughts, and she leaned closer to Prue to ask, “Am I imagining things, or are the two of them exaggerating enthusiasm?”

  “They are,” Prue whispered, her brow furrowing in concern as she looked at Amelia. “Amelia has not been well for some weeks and has been brought so low. I think they are trying to get her out of her melancholy.”

  “By being silly?” Edith shook her head but smiled with real fondness. The effort was plain to see, yet it was sweet in its observation. Neither Charlotte nor Elinor were especially jubilant people by nature, although they were undoubtedly full of enough passion, and here they were exerting all efforts to brighten the countenance of a young lady.

  This was why Edith had joined with them despite wishing to maintain a low-profile life in London; this genuine concern for others and willingness to act on that concern. Prue was probably the closest of them all to Amelia in friendship, but that didn’t matter. They could all adopt the girl and attempt to lighten whatever burdens she bore.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Edith murmured with a sigh as Amelia tried for a laugh at something Charlotte said.

  “Who can say? She’s not ill, nor has she been, but anyone can see she is not as she should be.” Prue smiled sadly and looked at Edith. “It was o-one of the reasons I th-thought she might like to come and stay with you.”

  Edith’s brows rose in surprise. “She was your idea?”

  Prue’s smile turned almost sheepish. “She was. Charlotte and Grace thought having a companion in your home might help you and keep certain things at bay, and I thought Amelia could do with being away from her usual surroundings for a time. Especially when she could have such a sympathetic friend to stay with.” She reached out and took Edith’s hand, squeezing gently. “Do you mind?”

  “Not in the least,” Edith assured her. “Had I known you meant Amelia… Well, I only wish I had thought of it. But do you think she will wish to?”

  Unlike some of the others might have done, Prue watched Amelia for a moment, giving the question some serious consideration and thought. “I don’t know, Edith. I hope she does.”

  “Stop monopolizing her!” Grace protested loudly, gesturing for Amelia to come over to the rest. “We wish to visit with her, as well!”

  It was a perfect interruption, and Amelia blushed with a smile as she moved away from Charlotte and Elinor to join the rest. “I apologize, I should greet everyone.”

  “Nonsense,” Izzy protested, waving her hands dismissively. “We’re not going to take offense. Did you have a nice Christmas?”

  Amelia sat and talked aimlessly of the Perry family Christmas as well as the winter, and none of it was particularly entertaining to hear. It ought to have been, but the note of enthusiasm was missing from the retelling, and they all knew it.

  Even Amelia.

  “Forgive me,” Amelia said suddenly, her shoulders slumping. “I’m not myself. It really was lovely, I promise.”

  “Nobody had a Christmas as lovely as Elinor; it’s safe to say,” Izzy pointed out, throwing a teasing smile towards the newest bride of the bunch.

  Elinor flamed as the others chuckled, and her smile was one of the most charming things Edith had ever seen. Despite the shock of it, the marriage between Elinor Asheley and Hugh Sterling was a love match if there ever was one. She rarely spoke of it, but there was no denying the joy Elinor exuded at any given moment since then.

  A love match with a reformed villain. How was that possible?

  Yet it was.

  “Hugh surprised me,” Elinor managed, averting her eyes and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “But Christmas itself was as chaotic as it ever was. Shocking number of engagements, though.”

  “Perhaps I should go to your estate next Christmas,” Amelia said with a laugh, though Edith caught the tension in her voice as she said so.

  She hadn’t thought Amelia Perry was particularly searching for a husband, though it did seem to be on the mind of every other young woman in Society. Perhaps Amelia’s melancholy was a broken heart, but who would have done such a thing? There had never been any indication of a suitor for her, as far as Edith knew, unless she had missed something during her time away in Derbyshire.

  “Amelia,” Georgie suddenly began, lacing her fingers across her lap, “Edith has a question to ask of you, which is why we asked you here.”

  Amelia’s eyes widened, and she looked at Edith expectantly. “Yes, my lady?”

  Edith smiled at the girl, shaking her head. “Lass, don’t ‘my lady’ me. Edith is fine.”

  “Edith,” she corrected with a
quick smile, “if you insist.”

  “I do,” Edith replied with a wink and a smile, “especially if you come to stay with me.”

  Amelia’s smile froze, and she blinked once. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I would like to have you stay at my home with me,” Edith replied. “I am there alone but for my servants, and it would be best for all concerned if I had some company for a time.”

  Again, Amelia blinked, her mouth beginning to gape open.

  Poor thing, this was such a strange request, and possibly harmful to a reputation, given Edith’s situation. Why would she agree to stay with her? She had a perfectly lovely home in London, far nicer and more elegant than Edith’s home could ever be, let alone actually being in a livable condition. She barely knew Edith, and…

  “When can I come?” Amelia suddenly said, looking brighter and more like her old self than she had yet. “I would love to stay with you; are you certain?”

  That was certainly unexpected.

  Edith blinked unsteadily, her heart stopping in shock. “I am if you are, but are you sure, lass? Ye’ve no’ seen the state of my house, and…”

  Amelia shook her head firmly, cutting Edith off. “If you can live there, Edith, I can live there, I vow. I’m not nearly as fine as I look, and I am desperate to be away from home.”

  “Well, that’s simple enough,” Charlotte commented with a laugh. “I’ll go see about a tea tray.” She rose and exited without another word.

  Edith bit her lip, staring at Amelia with some concern. “Do you need to check with your parents, Amelia? I live in Cheapside, and the situation is not… I dinna ken why I’m asking. The more I consider the idea, the worse it gets!” She pushed up from her seat and began to pace. “I canna do this to you, or to anyone. It’s too horrid, too much. I dinna ken why I agreed…”

  “Edith!”

  She stopped as Grace stepped directly into her path and grabbed her arms. She met her friend’s eyes helplessly, panic and regret welling within her.

  “I canna ask her to do this, Grace. It’s not right.”

  “None of this is right, Edith,” Grace insisted, her voice as firm as her expression. “None of it. It’s not right that you are in it, either. You have Owen at the house. Bringing Amelia in may make things more bearable until we find a more permanent solution for you.”

  Edith shook her head slightly, tears welling. “I have to tell her everything. She has to know what she is risking.”

  Grace gave her a firm nod. “All right. Then tell her everything.” She took Edith’s arm and led her to the seat beside Amelia, then gestured for the rest of them to follow her out of the room.

  Without a word, they did so, leaving Edith and Amelia alone in the drawing room together.

  “This is a little worrisome,” Amelia murmured as she turned towards Edith. “Are you all right?”

  Edith exhaled slowly, blinking away the tears of her panic and trying for a smile. “Well enough. It’s just… Amelia, my late husband’s cousin wants me to be his mistress. He calls frequently to renew his addresses, and while he has yet to make advances towards me there, he has made advances elsewhere. He controls my finances, as well. I do not live in finery, and my continuing to refuse him may make my situation worse. I dinna want to bring you into this unawares.”

  There was no change to Amelia’s expression, then she reached for Edith’s hand and squeezed tightly. “If you can live in it, I can live in it, Edith. You shouldn’t have to face it alone, and if I can help in any way, I will.” She finally smiled, albeit ruefully. “I don’t mind telling you, but I’ve had a disappointment, far beyond what I thought I would. My mother, sweet though she is, will not leave me in peace, and the reliving of it all makes everything hurt more.”

  “I can imagine,” Edith said softly, her mind racing back to her more innocent days in Scotland when she had romantic dreams and imagined beaus. Had she ever fancied a lad enough to find her heart broken in that way?

  The only heartbreak she could recall was that of being betrayed by her family and forced down an aisle she would have fled from.

  A cold shiver raced down her spine, and she shoved the dark memories away.

  “Perhaps,” Amelia continued, “in staying with you, I will find the healing I need, and in helping you, distract myself from it all.” She smiled further still, looking bright again. “It sounds as though we are both suffering in some way. We might as well suffer together.”

  Warmth spread from Edith’s chest out into the tips of her fingers, and she felt hope for the first time in ages. “I will confess to ye, lass; it will be lovely to have a friend in my home.”

  Amelia nodded, her eyes bright. “And it will be lovely to me to be of use again. Shall I come tomorrow?”

  Edith laughed once. “Aye, if ye please! I’ll have a room ready for you.”

  “Finally,” Charlotte announced, entering with a tea tray in her hands, the others trailing behind her. “I’ve been hovering out there waiting for you both to agree to it. Now, can we please discuss the articles this week? Amelia, would you like to write as a guest? Sterling ladies, perhaps you might consider working together on something? Anything, really.”

  Chapter Eight

  A meeting of men is shrouded in mystery from ladies such as we. One can only imagine what is discussed in such goings-on, and whether it really should be such a mystery at all.

  -The Spinster Chronicles, 16 June 1819

  “It’s not that bad.”

  “It is.”

  “Tony, it’s not.”

  “Cam, it is.”

  “I can assure you, it’s not.”

  “It is,” Tony Sterling insisted, flicking the ends of his cravat for emphasis. “It’s the most ridiculous bit of frippery I’ve ever seen. What was wrong with how I wore it before?”

  Camden Vale exhaled heavily, turning the glass in his hand against the surface of the table. “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. Is your wife pleased with it?”

  “Yes…” came the reluctant response.

  “Then shut up and wear the damned thing.”

  Graham watched their exchange from a nearby table at the club, his own drink in hand. He hadn’t intended to interact with any of Lady Edith’s friends and associates today, having spent far too much time with the lot of them lately, but their paths did seem to cross inordinately frequently. And he was sitting alone for the present, Tyrone clearly having forgotten the time or the location of their meeting this afternoon.

  No matter. His friend would likely have a decent enough excuse, and it wasn’t as though Graham had pressing engagements today.

  He wished he did; a life of idleness and pleasure-seeking had never been one he wished for himself. The country was far more his taste. No one minded there if he worked alongside his tenants or just for the sake of it. No one cared if he didn’t dress finely or ride his horse across the lands for hours on end. No one expected him to be on display or to be aimlessly social.

  Merrifield was his responsibility and where all his energies ought to be focused. Had he gained just Merrifield with his brother’s death, he would have had no reason to leave it. But the title required more from him, so here he was, sitting alone at a table in London.

  Marvelous.

  “Care for some company, Radcliffe?”

  Graham glanced up to see Lieutenant Henshaw pausing at his table, his eyes fixed on him. “Wasn’t looking for any in particular, but I won’t refuse some if it’s offered.”

  Henshaw raised a brow at him. “Which is a long-winded way to say that you wouldn’t mind it. Hell’s hounds, man, why not just say so? Come on.” He clapped Graham on the back and gestured for him to follow.

  Barely restraining a face, Graham pushed himself up and did so, nodding at Sterling and Vale as he joined them. “Gentlemen.”

  “Radcliffe.” Vale nodded in return and indicated Sterling. “You know Captain Sterling?”

  “I do,” Graham acknowledged. “How are you, Captain?
”

  Tony Sterling made a face and yet again flicked his cravat. “Dressed like a peacock but surviving nonetheless.” He rolled his eyes. “And for pity’s sake, call me Sterling. Or Tony. My commission is a mere formality at this point.”

  “Oh, disregarding formality, are we?” announced Lord Ingram as he approached the table. “Excellent, that is my favorite thing.” He took an open seat and sat inelegantly, looking just as at home here as he did in his own residence, somehow. “First time anybody says ‘my lord’ to me, I’ll put my fist to his jaw.”

  “That’s harsh,” Vale said with a smirk. “Show some respect, and you get a bruise? You’re clearly spending too much time with me.”

  Ingram nodded and took a tankard from a nearby servant, then clinked it against Vale’s. “Woe is me. I feel so poorly influenced.” He craned his neck from side to side and gave Tony a wry look. “Your cousin is part of the Spinsters contingent. Are we to expect him today?”

  Graham frowned, looking between the men in confusion. Whose cousin? What spinsters? It would do him no good to sit and listen to conversations he could not follow or understand.

  “No, Hugh is still mending fences with Francis and Alice, though we’ve told him time and again it’s all forgotten.” Tony widened his eyes in exasperation, but smiled, then caught Graham’s abject confusion. “We’ve lost you, haven’t we, Radcliffe?”

  “From the beginning,” Graham admitted without shame. “Apologies.”

  Ingram snorted a laugh. “Don’t apologize, Radcliffe. We practically speak our own language, and it’s devilishly hard to follow.” He pointed at Tony. “His cousin, once a villain and now less so than Cam here, married the hoyden of the Spinsters, Elinor Asheley, and now is one of our little husbands’ club. Though he has yet to attend a gathering with us.”

  “Husbands’ club? How quaint.” Graham shook his head with a soft laugh.

  “It’s adorable, isn’t it?” Henshaw agreed, grunting from his seat. “They moan and complain about their wives, then go home and live in incomparable bliss, and I get to hear all about it.” He patted Graham’s arm once. “Glad to have you here to endure it with me.”