Chapter One #2
With the ceremony completed, she and her father left St. George’s, taking almost an hour to say their goodbyes to other guests.
She found it a waste of time since they would see these very same people at social affairs throughout the remainder of the Season.
At least tonight was a card party, something she shined at.
In fact, she had partnered with Lord Merriman a few months ago at a card party.
They had lost their match on the last hand of the game to Lady Tia and Lord Balch.
Though Rowena knew she would be amongst the last to gain a partner at cards this evening, most likely she would carry her partner because of her strategies and skill at cards.
Once they arrived home, she changed from the gown she had been wearing to a simpler, drab one.
She removed the spectacles and rubbed the bridge of her nose.
Sitting at her dressing table, she gazed into the mirror, thinking herself a bit pretty.
She did not wish to attract any suitors, however, and used her wardrobe and the spectacles to hide behind.
The spectacles were made of regular glass since her eyes needed no correction.
Once she gained access to her dowry in three years’ time, she would throw them away and dress as she wished.
She looked forward to moving to a cottage near the sea on her father’s estate.
Papa would be surprised when she left him, but she would hire a competent housekeeper to look after the household.
Eventually, her cousin would take his uncle’s title.
She had already spoken to Ollie, and he was willing to allow her to remain in the cottage as long as she wished.
It was close to time for her to leave again, and Rowena stopped by her father’s study, telling him she was heading to the bookshop. He mumbled a goodbye and most likely would not recall where she was five minutes from now.
Setting out on foot, she did not bother to take a maid as her chaperone, knowing she would be invisible on the streets.
If anyone from Polite Society were out and about and recognized her, she was of so little interest that they would not even bother to gossip about her being unwed and unsupervised.
She arrived at Mr. Washington’s bookshop, which included a subscription library within it. The owner, like so many in his profession, adored books—and those who loved them. Because of that, he allowed Rowena and her small circle of friends to meet at his bookshop for their monthly meetings.
Going now to greet him, she said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Washington.”
“Why, good afternoon to you, Miss Stanhope. I hope you are doing well. By chance, did you have time to read Tristam Shandy, which I lent to you?”
She handed the Laurence Sterne book to him. “I most certainly did. You were absolutely right about it. Perhaps when you have some free time, we could discuss it together. Parson Yorick was quite an entertaining character.”
His eyes lit up. “I would appreciate hearing your comments, Miss Stanhope. Not many can make their way through it because of the number of times the author digresses, but satisfaction is guaranteed by the time a reader comes to its end.”
Mr. Washington glanced over her shoulder and then back to her. “I see two of your friends have already arrived.”
“Then I should join them. Thank you again for loaning Sterne’s book to me.”
She moved to the other side of the bookshop, which had a few chairs available, and joined Miss Tweedham and Lady Sarah.
“Were you at the wedding?” Miss Tweedham asked.
“Indeed, I was. Lady Tia and Lady Delilah made for two beautiful brides.”
Lady Sarah looked wistful. “I have heard that they are both in love with their new husbands. I thought it obvious by looking at them that the rumors are true. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be in love.”
Rowena doubted love would come to Lady Sarah.
She was already on the shelf at six and twenty.
Very plain of face. Still, she had an enticing dowry.
At some point, a gentleman in need of that dowry would no doubt speak to Lady Sarah’s father and receive permission to wed her.
Sadly for Lady Sarah, love would not be a part of that union.
Miss Tweedham sniffed. “I, for one, am not interested in marriage and have made that perfectly clear. I will grant that it was a lovely wedding, though.”
Miss Tweedham was her closest friend amongst the book society’s members.
She, like Rowena, was a bluestocking, through and through.
Miss Tweedham was average looking but possessed a keen intellect.
She was also the fifth of five daughters, all of whom had very small dowries.
Her four older sisters had all previously wed, and Miss Tweedham’s mother had high hopes this final daughter would, as well.
This was her friend’s second Season, however, and it did not seem as if she had any prospects, the same as Rowena.
The only difference between the pair was that Miss Tweedham hoped to one day wed, despite her voicing otherwise.
“Do we know if any of the others are coming today?” she asked.
Lady Sarah said, “I think it will just be the three of us today, Miss Stanhope.” She named three other members whom she had seen at today’s wedding, and they had all cried off coming to their meeting.
Miss Smythe rushed up. “Am I late? Oh, I hope I am not late. Have you begun the discussion?”
Of all the book society’s members, Miss Smythe rubbed Rowena the wrong way.
Miss Smythe leaned more toward gossip than she did discussing the books they read.
She was unpleasant to be around and seemed to have no other friends.
Rowena had taken pity upon her and allowed Miss Smythe to join their group, but she doubted the woman ever read any of the books they chose to discuss.
Her contributions to the group revolved around repeating comments others had made in a new way or asking irrelevant questions.
Still, Rowena placed a smile on her face. “No, you are right on time. It shall be the four of us today. Shall we begin?”
They took their seats, and she began her discussion of Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels, consulting the notes she had brought along to help guide their time together.
As usual, Miss Smythe contributed nothing.
Lady Sarah did make a few good points, while Miss Tweedham showed the most insight into the book.
“I still am a bit vague on all the symbolism,” Lady Sarah admitted.
She bit back a smile and noticed Miss Tweedham did the same.
Though Lady Sarah was an avid reader, she avoided newspapers and knew next to nothing about politics, which put her at a disadvantage.
Swift’s satire was rife with political symbolism, and Rowena did not think flogging a dead horse would bring any more understanding to Lady Sarah.
“I think we have discussed Gulliver’s adventures enough. I wanted to share with you the novel we will take up next.”
“I hope it is not as boring as this one was,” Miss Smythe commented. “I plodded through it.”
“Of course, you did,” Rowena said, knowing the woman had most likely not cracked open the book—and the sarcasm in her tone would go over Miss Smythe’s head. “I think you will find next month’s choice to be unusual.”
“Please tell us it is not as thick as today’s selection,” Miss Smythe said.
“It is barely a hundred pages,” she told them. “The author is French. His name is Voltaire, and we will be reading Candide.”
“Oh, I already like the sound of it,” Miss Tweedham said. “Would you share something about it with us, Miss Stanhope?”
“Gladly,” she said, smiling at her friend. “It is a picaresque novel. Candide is known for being overly optimistic.”
“Does Mr. Washington have copies of it?” Lady Sarah asked. “If so, I will purchase one while I am here.”
“He does. I informed him of our next choice, and he has graciously held back copies for our group.”
The four went to the counter, where Mr. Washington sold them three copies, Rowena already having bought hers previously.
“A very important work of literature,” the bookshop owner said. “Miss Stanhope always makes wonderful choices for you ladies to read.”
Rowena bid them all goodbye after confirming with Miss Tweedham that she would be at tonight’s card party.
“I am hopeless at cards, but the hosts are friends of my parents,” her friend said. “I simply must attend.”
“Then I will see you tonight.”
“Tomorrow night’s ball will be the last event I will attend,” Miss Tweedham informed her. “Mama grows tired of town. And tired of my lack of prospects.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” she said. “I will miss your company.”
“I have run out of ballgowns, as well as prospects,” her friend told her.
She knew Miss Tweedham wore hand-me-down gowns from her various sisters, and though a modiste tried to tailor them to fit better and change their appearance somewhat, her friend was usually as poorly dressed as Rowena herself.
“There is always next year,” Rowena proclaimed brightly.
“I will read Candide and write to you regarding my thoughts,” Miss Tweedham promised.
They said their goodbyes, and she walked home. At least Papa did not push all kinds of suitors upon her. Selfishly, he seemed to like the fact that she had not wed and was able to care for him and his household.
Still, the remainder of the Season would be lonely without Miss Tweedham’s company.