Page 7 of A Spinster’s Folly (Courting the Unconventional #2)
E ugenie emerged from her bedchamber, the soft folds of her pale blue gown whispering against the polished wooden floor as she stepped into the corridor. With measured steps, she made her way down the grand staircase, her hand grazing the iron banister.
Just as she reached the last step, a sharp knock echoed through the entry hall. The sound reverberated through the quiet house, halting Eugenie’s descent for the briefest of moments.
Tanner crossed the room in a few brisk strides and unlatched the heavy door. The hinges groaned slightly as the door swung open, revealing two figures silhouetted against the daylight.
From the doorway of the drawing room, Elsbeth’s voice rang out. “Aunt Mariam and Aunt Phoebe,” she greeted as she stepped forward.
The women stepped into the entry hall with warm smiles on their faces.
Elsbeth turned slightly, gesturing towards Eugenie. “Are you acquainted with my sister-in-law, Lady Eugenie? ”
The fading blonde-haired woman’s gaze settled on Eugenie. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen you since you were young. My, how you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.”
Eugenie returned her smile, dipping her head politely. “Thank you, Mrs. Ellsworth.”
“Mariam, Dear,” she replied. “There is no need to stand on formalities with me.”
The other woman spoke up. “I am not sure if you remember me, but I am Phoebe.”
“Yes, of course, you are Philip’s mother,” Eugenie remarked. “Please, you must call me Eugenie.”
With a graceful pivot, Elsbeth gestured towards the drawing room. “Shall we adjourn and begin the sewing circle?”
As the ladies filed into the room, Eugenie’s gaze fell upon the neatly stacked fabrics arranged on the long mahogany table.
Elsbeth moved towards the table and lifted a piece of fabric. “I thought we could make frocks for the girls. The maids have already cut the fabric; we just need to stitch the pieces together.”
“What a worthwhile endeavor,” Phoebe remarked approvingly as she took a seat.
Eugenie selected a piece of fabric and a threaded needle, settling into place beside the others. Just as she did, Tanner reappeared in the doorway, addressing Elsbeth. “Lady Jane has come to call, my lady.”
Elsbeth, who had just reached for her own sewing materials, froze mid-motion. “Lady Jane?” she repeated, her voice laced with surprise.
Eugenie gave her a curious look. “Did you not invite her?”
“No,” Elsbeth admitted, a shadow crossing her features. “She was one of the friends who turned their backs on me after my father died. I haven’t spoken to her since then.”
Eugenie studied her sister-in-law’s expression, sensing the unspoken weight behind her words. “What do you intend to do?”
Coming to a decision, Elsbeth straightened. “Please, send her in.”
Moments later, a young woman with blonde hair entered hesitantly, her gaze darting around the room as though expecting to be turned away. She cleared her throat before speaking. “I was hoping—assuming it is all right with you—that I could join your sewing circle once more.”
Elsbeth remained seated, her expression giving nothing away. “I am surprised you are lowering yourself to speak to me again.” There was a curtness to her words.
Lady Jane offered a weak smile, though it faltered at the edges. “I was wrong to give you the cut direct after your father’s passing. My father insisted I do so for the sake of our family’s reputation.”
“And now?” Elsbeth asked.
With a quiet yet resolute tilt of her chin, Lady Jane replied, “I have decided that it is my choice whom I associate with.”
A knowing look passed over Elsbeth’s face. “Your father doesn’t know you are here, does he?”
Lady Jane’s hesitation gave her away before she even spoke. “No. He thinks I am shopping.”
Elsbeth exhaled slowly, then gestured towards an open seat. “Take a seat,” she said graciously. “I could always use your help.”
Relief flickered across Lady Jane’s face as she moved to sit across from Elsbeth. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Eugenie picked up her sewing once more. The room gradually settled into a quiet rhythm, the gentle sounds of fabric being handled and needles piercing cloth filling the air.
But the moment of peace was short-lived.
Mariam, seated comfortably with her own work in hand, glanced up and met Eugenie’s gaze. Her eyes twinkled with curiosity. “How do you occupy your time, Lady Eugenie?”
“Eugenie,” she corrected softly. “And I suppose I engage in the usual pursuits expected of a lady.”
Before she could elaborate, Elsbeth interjected with a knowing smirk. “Do not let her modesty fool you. Eugenie is an avid reader—so much so that she practically devours books. She finishes one a day.”
Mariam’s brows lifted. “Is that so? A most admirable habit,” she said approvingly.
“There was a time I could always find a book in Charles’s hands as well.
He would disappear into his reading for hours, sometimes forgetting his own meals.
But now…” She exhaled wistfully. “Now, he is much more focused on running his estate.”
“Is that not a good thing?” Eugenie asked, her needle pausing mid-stitch.
Mariam smiled, though there was something wistful in the curve of her lips. “Oh, it is, of course. But I know how much he once longed to be a professor at Oxford. That was all he talked about when he was younger. He dreamed of lecturing about philosophy, of shaping young minds.”
Eugenie’s fingers resumed their work, her gaze fixed on the delicate thread weaving through the fabric. “Dreams can change,” she murmured, her tone thoughtful.
“Yes, they can,” Mariam agreed. She shifted slightly, then asked, “And what do you dream about, Eugenie?”
The unexpected question gave Eugenie pause. Her sewing slowed as she considered her response. It was rare for anyone to ask what she wanted—not in the manner of idle conversation, but as a genuine inquiry into her ambitions.
Finally, she spoke. “I have always wanted to write articles for the newssheets,” she admitted.
“And why don’t you?” Mariam asked.
Eugenie let out a small, wry huff. “For starters, I am a woman, and as everyone knows, women cannot possibly be intelligent enough to write for the newssheets,” she said, her voice tinged with dry sarcasm.
“That is poppycock!” Phoebe declared, shaking her head in indignation. “‘A Lady’ has written many books, and she is rather clever indeed.”
Eugenie smiled faintly at Phoebe’s spirited response but sighed. “Even if I truly wanted to, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
Across the table, Lady Jane, who had been quietly listening, suddenly spoke up. “My uncle works for The Morning Post ,” she offered. “Perhaps I could ask him to read a sampling of your work.”
Eugenie’s needle slipped in her hand as she turned, staring at Lady Jane in astonishment. “You would do that?” she asked, scarcely able to believe the offer.
“I would,” Lady Jane affirmed. “But even if he were to consider your writing, you would have to publish under a pseudonym.”
Eugenie nodded, her mind already racing with possibilities. “Of course. I would not expect otherwise.”
Lady Jane gave an encouraging smile. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet. What would you even write about?”
Without hesitation, Eugenie answered, “Political and social reform.”
Lady Jane let out a soft laugh. “That is quite a heavy topic,” she remarked. “Why not start as a gossip writer?”
Eugenie wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I want to do more than write about the latest scandals on the Society page.”
Lady Jane shrugged. “Many authors get their start writing for the Society pages,” she pointed out.
“I would not dismiss the idea so quickly. A few well-placed pieces could establish your name—well, your pseudonym —and once you have the editor’s favor, you may be able to branch out into more serious topics. ”
Eugenie considered this, mulling over the idea as she resumed stitching. The notion of writing gossip felt frivolous, but if it could be the start to something great… perhaps it was worth considering, after all.
“That is rather kind of you,” Elsbeth acknowledged.
Lady Jane offered a sheepish smile, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
“I know it can’t erase the past or make up for what I have done,” she admitted, her gaze dipping momentarily to the embroidery in her lap.
“But I hope it can serve as a stepping stone to renewing our friendship.”
Elsbeth’s expression softened. “I would like that.”
A flicker of relief passed over Lady Jane’s features. “Wonderful,” she murmured, almost to herself.
Seated beside her, Mariam shifted slightly in her chair, her gaze appraising as she turned her attention to Lady Jane. “And what do you dream of, my lady?” she asked, her tone laced with genuine curiosity.
“I don’t know,” Lady Jane said, surprise etched on her features. “No one has ever asked me that question before.”
Mariam gave her a pointed look. “Well then, I’d say it is about time that someone did.”
Lady Jane lowered the fabric she had been sewing into her lap, her fingers smoothing out the delicate material as she gathered her thoughts. “I suppose my dream is to have a voice,” she finally said. “Especially around my father and brother. They can be… overbearing at times.”
“Just a little,” Elsbeth teased.
Lady Jane let out a soft laugh. “My father is so consumed with our family’s reputation that I daresay he cares for little else. That is why I am twenty and unwed. He has yet to find a suitor worthy enough to marry into our family.”
“Do you not wish to marry for love?” Phoebe asked.
“Love? That is what fools aspire to, or so my father tells me,” Lady Jane said. “He has made it clear that I will not have a say in the matter. When the time comes, he will arrange a marriage for me.”
Elsbeth frowned. “Is that what you want?”
“No,” Lady Jane admitted. “But what choice do I have? I am merely a woman, after all. What do I know about marriage?”