Page 43 of An Offer for a Spinster
“No, but I’d very much like to meet L. Sterling. I know it’s foolish to fixate so much on one author – there are so many accomplished and talented writers now, after all – but I always felt like Sterling could see into a reader’s head. The characters leap over the page. I don’t mind saying that I’ve cried at the ending of more than one of his books. This one, for starters.”
She held upThomasin. Timothy swallowed, hard.
He recalled the ending. Thomasin, having endured many trials and saved her younger sisters from a fever, succumbs to the fever herself. Her death is peaceful, and a good end to the story, but readers did not like it. They felt as though the story was unfinished, somehow.
“Thomasin never gets her revenge,” he said, half to himself. “Her betrothed jilts her and passes out of the story – he’s never punished. In the end, it hints that her father gives up drink to care for his family better, but are we sure that happens? Did Thomasin really make any progress in her life at all, or was her death entirely in vain? It’s disappointing, I think.”
Katherine eyed him for a long moment, and Timothy felt heat rising to his cheeks.
“It’s a first novel,” she said at last. “It’s not perfect. But it is interesting. The author hadn’t quite established their style, hadn’t quite found their feet in the world of writing. This is, I think, one of the most raw and honest novels I have ever read. You can feel the author’s pain – their fear about irrelevance, about living in vain, about never quite making the changes they long to see. About being alone. That was what Thomasin feared most, wasn’t it? Being alone. The author is living through their character, to an extent that I would say they aren’t even separate entities anymore.”
There was a long, taut pause after that. Katherine flushed, looking away.
“Silly, I know.”
“It’s not silly,” Timothy said at once. He was breathless. Why was he breathless? “That’s a very insightful remark.”
“Well, I’m sure if I met the author, they would tell me it’s nonsense, and I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Timothy swallowed hard. “I don’t believe they would say that at all.”
She smiled wryly. “Hm. Well, I must go – I think Elizabeth is waiting for me, we’re having tea here before we leave. But I’ll see you at the masquerade tomorrow night, yes?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“What are you dressing up as?”
He swallowed again. “Honestly, I have no idea.”
Chapter Fourteen
The masquerade was to be held at the Argyle Rooms. Katherine had never been there before. The queue to get in the door trailed down the steps up to the main entrance, which did not bode well for the state of affairs inside. Katherine was shivering in the night air, but suspected she would warm up all too quickly once she was inside.
“Ridiculous waste of time,” Henry was muttering, chafing in his outfit. Alexander and he were black and white dominos respectively, with long, flowing cloaks, tight suits, and knee-high boots. William had decided not to wear a mask and could have been going to any party in London, albeit with a long, patchwork cloak which he’d been pressured into throwing on at the last minute. The Duchess had also elected not to dress up, donning a light, lacy black mask as a concession. She had her lips pressed together, and did not appear particularly happy.
“Oh, try and relax a little, Henry,” Alexander chuckled. His eyes were bright, and Katherine suspected he’d already been drinking brandy before they left home. William seemed to be distracted, and Henry was eyeing his younger brother sharply, obviously suspecting the same as Katherine.
“What are you going as again, Kat?” Alexander continued, a little too jovially. She could smell the brandy on his breath now and exchanged a quick look with Henry.
“I’m Athena, Alexander. You know, the Greek goddess?”
“I know who Athena is,” Alexander mumbled. “A little too high brow for amasquerade,though. I hear that Miss Bragg is going as a marionette’s doll. That’ll be interesting, I’m sure.”
“Oh, yes,” Katherine retorted acidly.
In truth, she wasn’t entirely sure whether Athena was the right guise for her. In keeping with the Grecian style, she waswearing a long, white robe, made of shifts and veils all draped together and pinned in various places, hanging down to her sandaled feet. Her arms were bare, and the costume was fixed in place with brooches on the top of each shoulder. It was looser than she was used to and felt somewhat flimsy. She’d done her hair in a simple Grecian style, twisted back at the nape of her neck, and had a head-dress on top, and a simple gold-coloured mask.
The effect had been very nice in the mirror in her bedroom, but now Katherine was a little worried that someone might tread on her hem and tear the whole costume away.
And then they were inside the marbled halls, and as expected, the heat and noise hit them like a wave.
One by one, her family disappeared. William trailed off, Alexander made a beeline for the refreshments and glasses of champagne, and Henry followed him, looking grim.
That left Katherine and her mother. The Duchess looped her arm firmly through her daughter’s, and Katherine realised with a sinking heart that she wasn’t going to get away anytime soon.
“Shall we look out Lord Barwood?” the Duchess said lightly. “I wonder what he is dressed as tonight. Something sensible, I’m sure.”
“I’d… I’d rather not, Mama. Lord Barwood tends to monopolise me. I’d like to spend time with my friends, and mingling. He practically keeps me prisoner when we’re not dancing.”
