Taming Lady Temperance (The Secret Society of Spinsters Book #1)

Chapter 1

Chapter

Albany, Texas

Casting a surreptitious glance over her shoulder, Noreen O’Sullivan tiptoed past the unoccupied Methodist church, then darted across Walnut Street toward the schoolhouse.

Heart palpitations brought on by self-imposed skulking shallowed her breathing.

She paused to brace her back against a pecan tree and steady herself before approaching the school.

Noreen had acquired many skills in the course of her twenty-seven years, but her arsenal had never included a talent for sneaking about in a clandestine manner.

Yet the invitation someone slid beneath the door of her boardinghouse room two days ago had urged secrecy, so in a rare act of compliance on her part, she’d determined to make her attendance as covert as possible.

Giving in to the whims of others was not exactly a hallmark of her character.

Noreen possessed little patience for people wielding power over others just because they could.

She’d rather blaze her own trail than follow someone she didn’t trust. It drove her mother to distraction.

She begged Noreen to curb her defiant ways and practice biblical submissiveness.

No man wanted to wed a woman who questioned him at every turn.

Fine by her. She had no intention of becoming a husband’s chattel.

She’d submit to God and to the laws of the land as the Good Book urged, but she’d not kowtow to men simply because society considered them the only citizens worthy of a vote.

If something needed to be questioned, she’d question.

If something needed to be opposed, she’d rail against it until things changed.

Her brash attitude might make her unpopular, but she’d rather bear the stigma of being unliked than ignore the passion for reform burning in her chest. Noreen had seen firsthand what blind submissiveness had done to her mother, first with Noreen’s father and now with her mother’s second husband.

She was a shell of a woman, timid, with no identity of her own.

Noreen had no desire to follow in those footsteps.

She might never have financial security, social standing, or children, but she’d have self-respect and her mission. It would be enough.

Reaching into her skirt pocket, Noreen fingered the edge of the invitation.

Thick, high-quality paper. Finer than what one would find in the general store.

Probably special-ordered from a stationer in Dallas or even a shop back east. Usually, she despised what she considered the putting on of airs by the wealthy when they flaunted their privilege in subtle displays, but she’d set aside her cynicism when she’d seen the sender’s signature—Miss Hortense Lockwood, a woman Noreen had long admired.

Well into her sixties, Miss Lockwood had never married and never apologized for her single state.

As sister to the local banker, she wanted for nothing financially, but instead of using her wealth as an excuse not to involve herself in the plight of those beneath her standing, she was the first to volunteer to help the needy.

She’d nursed sick children through the night to allow mothers to get some much-needed sleep, she hosted a widows’ tea every week in her home to encourage the elderly ladies in town, and she chaired a church committee that organized meals whenever a family in the area suffered a loss.

Miss Lockwood might not be as outspoken as Noreen, but she was a reformer at heart, one who cared “for the least of these” as Jesus had taught. A lady the entire town esteemed.

And she’d personally invited Noreen to join a new society of ladies.

“Ladies uniquely positioned to aid in the betterment of their community” had been the precise wording.

Her. Noreen O’Sullivan, bane of the Albany Town Council’s existence, had been invited to join Miss Lockwood’s organization.

She’d worked hard to build up an immunity to social ostracism, so the warmth that flowed through her upon receiving the invitation had caught her off guard.

It felt good to be included. Especially when this new society might very well be an answer to her prayers.

If she could convince Miss Lockwood and her ladies to take on the cause of temperance, she might finally make headway toward closing down the Salt Fork Saloon, a feat she’d been unable to accomplish on her own, despite numerous attempts of increasing zealousness.

Pushing away from the tree in the schoolyard, Noreen stole a quick glance back toward the street to ensure no evening strollers were about, then scurried the rest of the way up Schoolhouse Hill and eased open the door of the two-story frame building that served as the Albany public school.

She hated arriving late, but it couldn’t be helped.

When one of the kitchen staff went home ill, Mrs. Winslow had needed Noreen to stay and prepare the dessert service.

Hopefully, she hadn’t missed anything of vital importance.

Noreen moved through the foyer as quietly as possible, not wanting to disrupt the goings on in the classroom ahead.

Ignoring the staircase that led to the secondary room on the upper floor, she entered the room where her good friend Martha Evans taught and looked around for an unobtrusive place to sit among the ladies who had answered Miss Lockwood’s call.

Spotting a friendly face at the back of the room, Noreen aimed herself in that direction, relieved she’d not have to suffer the awkwardness of sitting beside someone less tolerant of her outspoken nature.

Jane Cowan might crave invisibility for herself, but she supported her friends and their dreams without equivocation.

Jane had yet to notice Noreen’s approach.

Her chin was tucked toward her chest as if she were trying to hide.

Poor thing. She’d likely be as grateful for Noreen’s company as Noreen would be for hers.

Noreen lengthened her stride. However, three steps into the room, it dawned on her that Jane wasn’t ducking her head out of shyness.

“. . . ask you, O Lord, to bless our endeavors . . .”

Good gravy. They were praying. Noreen halted at once and bowed her head where she stood.

“May we be vessels in your hand, prepared for good works, and eager to serve those around us in a manner that brings you honor and glory. In the name of Jesus we pray, amen.”

Standing behind the lectern at the front of the classroom, Miss Lockwood lifted her face at the conclusion of her prayer.

Her gaze immediately landed on Noreen. One brow raised slightly from behind her spectacles, but she quickly softened the censure with a smile.

A rather thin smile, but the expression was more welcoming than the scowls Noreen usually collected from displeased townsfolk.

Thankfully, the woman didn’t call her out for her tardiness, just turned to address the group of roughly a dozen ladies who’d gathered in the schoolhouse that night. Her smile brightened as she did so.

“Take a look around the room, ladies.”

Noreen dove into the small desk next to Jane, hoping no one had seen her before she claimed a seat.

Martha spied her, of course, since she was at the front of the room next to Miss Lockwood, but her friend just smiled, her eyes alight with good-natured teasing.

Jane’s eyes, on the other hand, widened like those of a frightened fawn.

When she realized Noreen was the one bursting into her quiet corner and not a stranger, however, she relaxed.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Jane whispered, a sweet smile adding a radiance to her face that her shyness usually hid. “Miss Lockwood doesn’t seem quite so intimidating now.”

Jane’s temperament was as opposite from Noreen’s as one could get.

Quiet, bookish, and wanting nothing more than to go unnoticed.

Many mistook her bashfulness for blandness.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Jane was the kindest, most selfless person Noreen had ever met.

Not to mention wise. She could see things from multiple perspectives instead of just her own and had saved Noreen from making regrettable decisions in the heat of the moment on more than one occasion.

“The women in this room are your sisters,” Miss Lockwood was saying, her voice carrying with all the authority of a minister preaching a sermon. “We are different ages and come from different backgrounds, but we share something in common, something beyond mere womanhood. We are all spinsters.”

Noreen bristled as Jane squirmed in the next seat over, her face reddening in shame.

“I see your discomfort with that term, and I share it. Spinster. Old maid. Maiden aunt. I’ve been called them all, even to my face.

The terms are used to denote our difference from other women.

To declare us strange or inferior because we lack husbands.

Over the years, I’ve learned to let go of the hurt those terms inflict and to seek value not in the opinions of others but in the eyes of God.

But in recent months, a desire has stirred within my breast to reclaim the term spinster and transform it into a badge of honor.

Single men are not looked down upon in society, so why should single women be ashamed of their unmarried state? ”

Noreen’s heart swelled to hear such a prominent woman espouse the beliefs she herself held. “Amen!”

Heads swiveled to stare at her. Noreen held hers high, unapologetic. Miss Lockwood nodded, approval in her eyes. Approval. From a leading member of Albany society. Mother would’ve swooned had she been present.

“Is this a suffrage meeting?” one middle-aged lady called out from a seat near the front. “I don’t hold with militant women marching in the streets and causing a ruckus. It’s unseemly, and I won’t be a part of such an organization.”