Chapter Eight
A voice of reason is essential to any young lady, no matter if she be married or not. It is preferable if that voice of reason is her own, for convenience’s sake if nothing else. But if one does not possess a voice of reason herself, an outside voice will do. Reason must always be objective, and that voice must be clear and impartial. Partiality can never be trusted as reason.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 2 September 1817
She wanted to end things? She wanted to end things?
She had started the Spinster Chronicles in the first place out of her own righteous indignation, and now she wanted to end things?
Hugh would have been dancing in the streets if he knew.
Fortunately, Tony had the good sense not to say a word about Georgie’s extraordinary claim the night before. In fact, he hadn’t even let Georgie get into any details about what she had said. If it were anybody else, he would have thought they were being dramatic or having a fit of capriciousness.
Not Georgie.
He’d seen her face, could see what it cost her to say it, but more than that, he had come to know her, at least a little, and she would never have admitted such a thing unless it had occupied her thoughts for some time. She was entirely serious.
But a ball surrounded by gossips and opponents of her group was hardly the place to have that discussion. He’d managed to persuade her not to do anything rash, which made her snap at him about never doing anything rash, a retort that he absolutely believed.
Georgiana Allen would have made a perfectly laid out plan that she was determined to see through to the very end. Nothing ill-conceived or hasty in any way, shape, or form.
He wasn’t sure if that was a comfort or not.
If she would always proceed with thought and care, giving every aspect due consideration, she would not have approached him lightly. She could already have a plan for making a proper retreat from the situation she had created for them. It was even conceivable that the strategy was already being implemented, whatever it was.
That was a terrifying thought.
He was convinced that the others had no idea Georgie was having these regrets. The fact that she came to him, of all people, to confess them ought to have been proof of that. And she had done so in confidence, at that.
Which meant he still had time.
For what, he was still unclear about.
His cousin, and most of the men in London, wanted the Spinsters to be disbanded so they could return to their previous way of thinking and doing things. They wanted no interference from others in their pursuit of young women, and they did not want the young women of London to have examples of independent thinkers to look to. They wanted the naïveté to return, the thirst for a husband of any sort, the ease of their way to the altar.
They undoubtedly wanted other things as well, but he refused to consider those with any real thought.
It was not worth the effort.
Hugh had begged him to break them up, to do something about the mess, and he had agreed. He hadn’t actually planned to do anything about the situation other than investigate, but now there was a chance to accomplish the original intention without causing anyone personal injury or doing any harm.
Georgie wanted the Spinsters to be ended, at least in some way. Tony had come to them for the same purpose, though none of them knew it. It was too easy to see how both parties could have their desired result and make many others happy in the process.
Except Tony couldn’t think of a single reason the Spinsters ought to have been disbanded.
Not a one.
That perplexed him exceedingly.
He had no idea what Georgie would say further on the subject, but, as her friend, he had agreed to meet her today so that they might have a discussion on the topic. They were to walk in Hyde Park, though he wasn’t entirely sure how that was going to be orchestrated. Georgie had said she would see to all the arrangements, whatever that meant, and he could only pray she was not planning to stage some sort of illicit assignation.
He was willing to go to many lengths for these women, he knew, but that was beyond anything. A gentleman could only endure so much talk before something began to stick.
Tony sighed as Rollins helped him into his jacket, then proceeded to brush the sleeves for him. “I’m going to have a private conversation with a woman today, Rollins.”
“Congratulations, sir,” the valet replied, focused on his task.
“I doubt that’s the correct sentiment.” Tony craned his neck, tugging at his cravat. “She’s going to confide in me.”
“My condolences, sir,” Rollins replied.
Tony frowned at his valet in the mirror. “I don’t think that is the appropriate sentiment either.”
Rollins met his gaze. “I have sisters, sir. Trust me, it is absolutely the correct sentiment.” He patted Tony’s shoulder firmly and turned to the bureau.
“She trusts me, Rollins,” Tony insisted, tugging at his weskit and examining his reflection. “It’s a mark of honor.”
“If you say so, sir,” came the dubious reply.
Tony gave up the argument. It was obvious that Rollins wouldn’t agree, and Tony’s attempts to insist that this was a good thing were weak, even in his own mind.
“God help me,” he muttered, tugging at the cravat again.
“That about sums it up, sir,” Rollins concurred as he fixed the cravat that Tony had just mussed.
Tony scowled at him. “Thank you, Rollins. That will be all.”
The valet almost smiled and nodded. “Yes, sir. Good luck, sir.” He bowed and moved to leave the room.
Tony frowned as Rollins left. “You needn’t make it sound as though I am riding off to battle.”
Rollins paused at the door. “Aren’t you, sir?” He gave him a knowing look, and then departed.
Insubordinate servant. Tony shook his head, exhaling sharply.
“Captain Sterling, sir!” came the voice of the landlord. “Rider come for you, sir, with a missive.”
Tony rolled his eyes and strode for the door to his apartments. The man could never slide the missives under the door like other landlords. He always felt the need to announce the messages, desperate to find out anything he could about the business of his tenants.
He opened the door and took the note, handing over a few coins. “My thanks to the rider, and thank you, Mr. Lawson.” He shut the door before Mr. Lawson could begin to make inquiries, and broke the seal on the note, opening it quickly.
Mr. Partlowe is going to be taking his wife on a walk in Hyde Park around eleven this morning. Mrs. Partlowe has invited me along. It would be best if you happened to come upon us. We will be taking the south path.
Georgie
It was interesting, but the flourish with which she wrote the G in her name made him smile. It was quite different from the neat simplicity with which she had written everything else. Georgie was a no-nonsense sort, with a surprising wit and an intriguing side of mischief, but never anything resembling embellishment.
Except, apparently, for one letter in her name.
He chuckled and folded the note, stuffing it into his pocket.
There was a sharp rap on his door and he looked at it curiously. “Come,” he called, not entirely sure if he should.
The door opened rather suddenly, and Hugh entered, his eyes widening at the sight of Tony so near. He looked as though he had slept poorly, or perhaps just minimally, and had undoubtedly had too much to drink the night before.
It was not his best look.
“Cousin,” Hugh clipped, blinking his reddened eyes almost separately as he entered the apartments.
Tony nodded in greeting, closing the door when his cousin failed to do so. “You look terrible, Hugh.”
“As well I might,” Hugh laughed harshly, rubbing a hand over his face. “A night of gaming and drinking after the ball.”
That wasn’t promising, but it explained his cousin’s rumpled appearance. “And how did you fare?”
Hugh looked almost amused. “I won, and I lost, and neither of those in extreme.”
“And the drink?”
There was a slight wince at that. “Perhaps to the extreme.”
Tony nodded, though it really was quite obvious. “I see.”
Hugh stared at him, his eyes narrowing, his mouth tight.
Tony returned the look with a rather mild stare of his own, not saying anything.
The silence continued on, the only sound the grandfather clock in the corner ticking.
Just when Tony thought his cousin might have fallen asleep on his feet with his eyes open, Hugh exhaled roughly. “Dammit, Tony, what were you thinking last night?”
“Last night?” Tony frowned at him, shaking his head. “I don’t see why you are so opposed to my dancing with Miss Westfall…”
“I’m not talking about Miss Westfall!” Hugh snapped loudly. “I don’t care about Miss Westfall. Devil take Miss Westfall!”
“Careful, Hugh,” Tony warned him, his tone turning dark and dangerous.
Hugh huffed and slapped his gloves into an open hand. “I did not intend for you to make things more difficult when I asked you to investigate the Spinsters, Tony, but last night…”
Tony gaped at him incredulously. “Surely you’re not speaking of Delaney and Lucy Wilton.”
“Of course, I am!” Hugh laughed again as if that should be obvious. “Delaney is a close friend of mine since school, a very good sort, and an excellent card player.”
“Which is exactly what a gentleman should aim for,” Tony scoffed, folding his arms. “I suppose you don’t mind that he fancied taking a fifteen-year-old girl to the orangery unaccompanied.”
“He was doing no such thing!” Hugh protested. “The girl was feeling weak and he offered to escort her to get some air.”
Tony barked a hard laugh. “Is that what he told you? That’s how he described it? Painted himself as the perfect gentleman, did he?”
Hugh sputtered noisily. “So, he might have given her some innocent flirtation! What harm is there in that?”
“Innocent flirtation?” Tony shook his head in disbelief, not altogether certain he was above beating his cousin to a bloody pulp. “Hugh, I saw them with my own eyes! Lucy Wilton was not faint, she was not in any distress at all, and Delaney was not playing the gentleman with her. She is a child! A naïve little thing that had no idea the sort of trouble she could have been in had anybody else in the world seen them alone together. They were not going for air, they were going towards the orangery, away from the night air.”
A flash of distress crossed Hugh’s face, cracking his outraged expression slightly. “No, surely not. Delaney swore to me that you had to play hero, that somehow the Spinsters got to you.”
“You believe Delaney’s account of things, do you?” Tony nodded in thought, a heaviness settling in his stomach. “Your own cousin. You believe him over me.”
“Were the Spinsters involved, Tony?” Hugh asked, his voice no longer so indignant. “Was Miss Allen?”
Tony gave his cousin the barest sort of smile he could manage. “And what if they were? Does it make one bit of difference who saw the danger first?”
“There may not have been danger,” Hugh suggested. “But if it was Miss Allen, you can be sure the whole thing was overdone, and you might have had the wrong impression.”
“No one gave me an impression of what was happening,” Tony snarled. “I took my own stock of the situation and acted. If Miss Allen happened to be involved, it would have been in a manner befitting a woman of Society with a general concern for one of its own, which is more than I can say for so many others.”
Hugh did not miss the implication, and he stiffened in response. “Delaney will spread this all over Town, you know. He will put the word out that you are helping the Spinsters, and that you are against us all. Every man will look at you with contempt.”
Tony shook his head again. “I’d rather bear the contempt in their eyes all my days than see a moment of distress in hers. Look to your priorities, cousin. Miss Allen has the right of it.”
He clipped a brief nod and left the apartments, storming his way down the stairs.
A walk in the park would undoubtedly do him some good. It would give him time to think how he would convince Georgie to keep the Spinsters alive and well and offer whatever he could to help them do even more.
“Captain Sterling!”
Tony smiled broadly at the approaching Partlowes, looking the very picture of a proper English couple. Georgie walked beside Mr. Partlowe in a simple green walking dress and spencer, her bonnet ribbons loose and trailing. She saw him at once and widened her eyes meaningfully.
He had no idea what she was trying to say, but surely he could manage this bit without being wrong.
“Partlowe,” Tony greeted, reaching out to shake his hand. “A pleasure to see you again.”
Mr. Partlowe, always a man of some reserve, inclined his head at the compliment, then turned to his fairer wife. “I don’t believe, Sterling, that you are acquainted with my wife.”
Tony bowed to her, smiling further still. “Alas, I am not. Your servant, ma’am.”
Mrs. Partlowe returned his smile, but it was reserved as well. “How do you do, Captain?”
“Much better for having made your acquaintance at last.”
She grinned outright at that, taking him by surprise. “Now I see what my sister Elinor has been going on about. You’re quite a character, aren’t you, Captain?”
“Emma,” Mr. Partlowe murmured quietly, seeming a trifle uncomfortable with her quip.
“No, no, Partlowe, it’s quite all right,” Tony assured him, wondering why he had seen the need to correct her for something so slight. “You must remember that I can be a character at times, and there are stories from school to prove it.”
Partlowe looked almost as uncomfortable at the recollection, but he tried for a smile.
“I had forgotten that Mrs. Partlowe was formerly Miss Asheley, and I am acquainted with Miss Elinor a little.” Tony looked back to Mrs. Partlowe, still smiling. “She is a lovely girl, Mrs. Partlowe.”
She laughed once. “I think you mean lively, sir. So, are you acquainted with Miss Allen here, then?”
The look on her face told Tony that she knew exactly how acquainted he was with her, and with others, but it seemed her husband did not. That was curious, but he knew Partlowe, and he could not say that he blamed her there.
Tony bowed in greeting to Georgie. “I am, yes. Good morning, Miss Allen. How are you?”
Georgie curtseyed prettily, managing to smile. “I am well, thank you, Captain Sterling. And yourself?”
There was a slight bite to her tone, but if the others noticed, they gave no sign. Tony managed to keep his smile contained. “Very well, indeed.”
“Where are you headed, Captain?” Mrs. Partlowe asked him.
He glanced at her as if pleased by the question. “Nowhere in particular, ma’am. I am simply enjoying the fine day.”
“Perhaps you will walk with us,” she suggested brightly, looking at her husband for permission. “Then Miss Allen would not be awkwardly grouped with the pair of us.”
“Oh,” Tony replied, looking at both Mr. Partlowe and Georgie, “that would be very fine, indeed, but only if Mr. Partlowe can bear the thought of only having one fair companion instead of two.”
Partlowe laughed at that, smiling at his wife with the first real warmth that Tony had seen in him yet.
“And if Miss Allen does not mind the company,” he added, giving Georgie a look.
Her expression was playfully disgruntled, but she cleared it before the others could see. “I have no complaints.”
“There now,” Partlowe stated as he politely released Georgie’s arm. “Join us, please.”
Tony did so, then waited for the Partlowes to precede them along the path before following at a respectable distance.
“Good lord, Tony,” Georgie hissed once it was safe. “I could have choked on your manners.”
“Just being gentlemanly, Georgie,” he replied, keeping his tone low as hers had been. “Wouldn’t want to raise any suspicions.”
“You could have made some fairly obvious insinuations and it still would not raise any suspicions for Mr. Partlowe,” Georgie told him, staring at the couple ahead of them with a hint of distaste.
That was true, but he was surprised to hear her speak so about her friend’s husband. “I was under the impression that you and Mrs. Partlowe are the best of friends.”
“We were,” she responded, flicking her gaze to him quickly. “What of it?”
“You don’t like her husband.” He shrugged a shoulder. “That seems odd.”
Georgie made a soft noise of irritation. “I don’t dislike Mr. Partlowe. He’s decent enough, but so sedate. So reserved, so proper.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“For Emma, yes.” Georgie shook her head, the yellow ribbons dancing with the motion. “She didn’t used to be so demure and tiresome. She was more like Elinor, but with sense. I didn’t think she minded being a spinster with the rest of us, but then she…” She waved her hand at them.
Tony nodded in thought, beginning to understand her point. “She married for comfort.”
Georgie bobbed her head quickly. “I should have been happy for her. I was happy that she was happy, but I did not think she particularly was. It didn’t feel happy, Tony, it felt like surrender.”
“Not everyone is as independent as you, Georgie,” Tony reminded her. “And not every woman is comfortable with being a spinster, as you are.”
She stopped just then and looked up at him. “Comfortable. Is that what you think this is?”
Her words startled him, as did the rather straightforward tone. He suddenly felt as though he were the one being investigated. “My apologies. Apparently, I am wrong.”
“Hmm.” Her brow furrowed slightly, and she began walking again, smiling when Mrs. Partlowe looked behind her at them. “Comfortable. It’s not wrong, I suppose, but it’s not the word I would choose. Accustomed, perhaps. Resigned, certainly. But comfortable?” She shook her head quite firmly. “There is no comfort in being a spinster, Captain.”
“Oh, it’s Captain again?” he teased, suddenly anxious for her to be brought out of melancholy.
Georgie gave him a sidelong look. “You called me a spinster, Captain.”
He returned her look. “And? Are you not?”
She sighed, and he heard the weight of it. “No, I am, and probably quite soundly so at my age. But no one likes to be reminded of the fact. We haven’t forgotten what we are, but you don’t see anyone else in Society being defined in the same way. There’s no spite in being a bachelor or a miss or an heiress, yet we all know to whom those titles refer.”
“Again, I apologize, Georgie,” Tony said, taking a risk by moving just a bit closer. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I know that,” she allowed, smiling a little. “I doubt anybody does. But that’s just it.” She considered her words with care, then dipped her chin. “It is one thing for us to call ourselves spinsters. It’s another thing for anyone else to.”
Tony looked at her then. “Why is that?” he asked gently.
Her smile turned sad. “We laugh when we say it. Or smile. We know the truth.”
“What truth?”
“That those women called spinsters, whatever the reason, have private moments of crippling loneliness. Mind-numbing insecurities. Pillows drenched with tears. And the smiles we bear, as with the titles, hide the fact that we hurt all the time. We laugh because we understand each other.” Georgie’s throat worked on a weak swallow. “No one else does.”
Tony had never acted in any way that would have been considered forward or untoward, but he had the maddest desire to take Georgie’s hand at that moment. She sounded so lost, so alone and helpless. He’d never imagined that a woman as vivacious and bold as Georgie could suddenly be as vulnerable and exposed as she was.
“Georgie…” His fingers reached out just a little but didn’t quite make it to her.
She shook herself quickly and looked up at him. “Apologies, Tony. I didn’t mean to grow maudlin.”
He exhaled slowly, relieved she was returned to him, though not at the sudden defenses she had thrown up. “I didn’t find you maudlin in the least. It was very honest, and I like that.”
Georgie laughed as she toyed with her bonnet ribbons. “If you like that, you should take more opportunities to speak with me. I’ll be so honest you will run to your stepmother for comfort.”
Tony grinned at the image that brought up. “I don’t think Miranda would be overly fond of my running to her for comfort. She’d laugh in my face if I did that.”
“I like her already.”
“You would.”
They smiled at each other briefly, then looked away. “So,” Tony said almost briskly, “you are considering disbanding the Spinsters, with a capital S?”
Georgie chewed on her lip for a moment. “Considering, yes. But not straightaway. It’s just… Well, it’s gotten so out of hand. It was never supposed to be like this.”
“Like what?” Tony asked, not following.
She reached into her reticule and pulled out a note, handing it to him. “This is from Ruth Ainsley, thanking me for all of the work I’ve done. She’s envious that I have the strength to endure my spinsterhood so proudly, and she’s not going to accept a proposal she had previously been considering because she finds it no longer suits her. I apparently gave her the strength to defy her parents’ wishes.”
Tony hissed a wince as he scanned the lines quickly, the flowery language painful even to him.
Georgie shook her head slowly. “I never meant for people to envy me, nor to prevent girls from marrying if they so chose, nor to defy their parents. What is there to envy? We don’t live in a world where a single woman may do as she pleases and have all the advantages of life. I did not mean to become someone others wished to emulate. I only wanted to reassure others who might find themselves in a situation like mine that it is not as dismal as it seems.” She sighed and looked down at the path as they walked. “But the truth is… it can be dismal. Sometimes it is very dismal. And when it is, I find I cannot feel so harshly about Emma’s decision after all.”
This was beyond anything that Tony had anticipated when he’d agreed to meet her today. There was so much more to the situation, to the Spinsters themselves, than he’d thought. And there was so much more to Georgie. Whatever he’d thought or felt about her before, it was as if he were seeing her clearly for the first time now.
And he was somehow more intrigued.
“I’ll help you,” he vowed without shame.
Her nose wrinkled up in confusion as she turned her attention to him again. “With what?”
“This,” he said simply. “All of this. Managing your expectations, understanding what you want, finding your way through whatever this has become. Whatever you need, whatever it takes. I’ll help you, if I can, even if you just need someone to talk to.”
Her lips curved into a slight smile, and he saw amusement dancing in her eyes. “I may lash out at you.”
“Well, there’s a surprise.” He returned her smile easily, clasping his hands behind his back.
Georgie’s smile spread, and she managed a light laugh. “You’re a good sort, Tony Sterling.”
He sighed in resignation. “Yes, I know. It is my one failing.”
“Oh, give me time,” Georgie assured him. “I am sure I could find more.”
“You may try.”
“And try I will.”
He nodded at that. “I look forward to it.”
And the oddity of it all was that he truly did.