Considering they already published at least once a week, if not more, that could hardly be accomplished.
And then there was the matter of the Spinsters with a capital S no longer containing many spinsters of the lower-case S variety. Of the original members, only Charlotte remained unmarried. She did not mind being unmarried; she only minded that nobody else was.
Perhaps she was not so very independent after all.
Sitting here in her personal parlor, Charlotte glumly stared out of the window, the downpour outside matching all too perfectly the dismal nature of her mood. What else could she be but dismal at a time like this? Every single one of her friends had cried off on gathering today, leaving her to sit here alone with no one to talk to, no ideas on what to write for the Chronicles, and no one to confide her terrifying plan to.
Unless she brought in her brother.
Charlotte shuddered at the thought. Charles would never behave in the way that Charlotte would need him to, whatever that was, and the plan would not stay secret for longer than it took him to exit the room and find a body to talk to, be they servant, corpse, or monarch.
There were no secrets in the Wright family.
Neither was there creativity or originality, as evidenced by the names chosen for the children, but that was neither here nor there. Lottie wasn’t Charlotte’s favorite pet name, but it did lessen the confusion in the household, and her brother adamantly refused to be called Brutus.
That did not stop Charlotte from referring to him as such, but she was the younger sister. It was expected of her.
Either way, she would not bring the man into her confidence in this matter. She was not so desperate as that. After all, she had only come to her decision a few weeks ago, and only out of boredom with no one but Lieutenant Henshaw for company.
Their mutual wager on each other’s marital status was made in good humor, but there was a thread of pressure running through it. The first to wed would win a hundred pounds from the other, as well as have their name bestowed on the other’s firstborn child. It had been a silly idea born from boredom, though that did not change the stakes. Henshaw would win, there was no doubt about that. Unless one were blind as well as obtuse, it was impossible not to know precisely where his affections lay.
The only challenge he would face would be the lady herself, as she was shy, modest, and perfectly unreadable as to her emotions. Without guile and in every way ideal. There was no way for the poor man, or anyone else, to have complete confidence in her own affections or her answer.
Charlotte knew, of course, as she always knew everything. She also knew that if Hensh would be a little less insecure and a little more romantic, he would have an easy time of it. He’d be best suited to a proper and dedicated courting of the lass. There was nothing like pointed attention to bring the heart aflutter. A quiet, sweet courtship that Society barely noticed. That’s what they needed. It was assuredly the best way for them to proceed.
Now that she had determined how to get Hensh married, surely her own efforts would come easily enough. But alas, matchmaking for one’s self was never so simple.
Hensh would never ask Charlotte’s opinion on how to proceed in romantic affairs. He knew as well as anybody that, for all her collection of would-be suitors, Charlotte had no real experience in the thing.
She had never, ever been courted.
How in the world any man truly expected Charlotte to accept his hand in marriage without proper courtship was beyond her. Some poor lads were convinced that merely spending time in her company amounted to such a thing, and they were sadly disappointed.
Now, looking back on it all, it was Charlotte who was most disappointed of all. How could she not have gained a single worthy admirer in all the years she had been out? For heaven’s sake, she was an heiress! A beautiful one at that, and she had several sources to testify to the fact! How could every one of her professed lovers be lacking? What in the world had she been doing all these years?
Of course, she knew the answer.
She had been enjoying the life of a spinster, in which there was no harm or sin, but now she had nothing but the fortune and beauty she had been born with to show for it.
She had her friends, of course, but her friends were not here. Which brought her back to the situation at hand.
Charlotte groaned and turned away from the window, glowering at the empty parlor. This was how her thoughts had been of late; always going round and round until they came right back to the same problem, the same defenses, the same process of consideration. She had not gotten anywhere, and her lack of intelligence in this area was more maddening than the situation itself.
Surely there was someone who could give her some insight.
Georgie was tending her son, who had managed to come down with a cold. Prue was in her confinement. Izzy was unwell, which likely meant she, too, would have a blessed announcement shortly. Grace was taking tea with her mother, which undoubtedly could have been pushed off. Edith was in Scotland with her new husband, most assuredly reveling in bliss. And Elinor…
Charlotte shuddered, rubbing at her brow. Elinor was spending time with her husband, she had said. That was undoubtedly the worst possible excuse of them all, considering the identity of the aforementioned husband.
Idiotic girl.
She could have invited Kitty Morton, she supposed, but Kitty, bless her, was not much for company on her own.
Where was Michael when she needed him?
She pursed
