A Death, A Duke, And Miss Mifford - Claudia Stone Page 0,9

gathering will little impress him, even if we do bar all the clerks and shopkeepers. In fact, I cannot think why he accepted the invitation in the first place."

Mary bit back a groan; while she knew her mother only wished to come to her defence, she had done so in the only way that she knew how--by reminding everyone that she was better than them. Well, that she thought she was better than them.

Mrs Canards visibly bristled at Mrs Mifford's words and Mary scrambled to think of something to say which might remedy matters.

"His Grace would not have accepted our invitation if he thought our assembly beneath him," Mary assured the room, "I am certain that he is very much looking forward to attending."

Mary nervously tucked a strand of hair which had escaped back under her mob-cap. The dratted thing was too large, but given that mob-caps were de rigueur for spinsters, she had felt obliged to wear one.

"And while some of your rules might not work," Mary continued, striving for harmony, "I do agree with the others; no boots in the room, sixpence a ticket for those without a subscription, married ladies and ladies of precedence to have first call before eight o'clock."

"Yes, those are good ideas," Miss Sarah Hughes agreed quickly, recognising Mary's mission to mollify Mrs Canards, "How clever."

"I might never have been to town," Mrs Canards sniffed, "But I have been around a long time, and I know that if one wishes to keep the riff-raff away, one must set rules."

Mrs Wickling nodded furiously in agreement; a quiet woman of sixty years, she seemed to exist only to validate Mrs Canards' pronouncements and held no opinions of her own.

"Well, if that's settled," Mrs Mifford interrupted, "Perhaps we might call the meeting to an end?"

Her mother, Mary knew, wished to hurry home so that they all might begin preparing for the evening's event. As it was not yet noon and Mary had no wish to start dressing seven hours early, she lingered in the parish hall as the others gathered their things and left.

"I shall help Mary with the tidying up," Jane called to their mother, who was ushering Emily and Eudora out the door.

"Well, don't dally," Mrs Mifford replied, "There is work to be done if we are to tame that hair of yours into something presentable."

"Charming," Jane snorted, as the door slammed shut behind their Mama.

"Well, you are her only hope, now that I am officially on the shelf," Mary replied, as she began to push the chairs back into place, "And you often say yourself that your hair has a mind of its own."

Jane was Mary's opposite. Where Mary was fair, Jane was dark. Where Mary was neat, Jane was always in a state of disarray. Even now, the hem of her dress was stained with mud, having taken an early morning ramble through the fields, whilst her chestnut curls were worn down, tumbling wildly around her shoulders.

"You are not on the shelf," Jane retorted, ignoring the mention of her hair, "And even if you were, is it not better to be left on the shelf, rather than placed in the wrong cupboard?"

"That it is," Mary agreed, though in her heart she mourned a little. Despite having embraced spinsterhood entirely--mob-caps, reading, sniffing in disapproval at her younger sisters' antics--she still rather regretted that a husband and home were now lost to her.

The girls worked in silence for a few minutes more, until the room was returned to the state that they had found it in. Mary sighed as she tugged on her mob-cap, which had slipped as they worked. It was rather unfortunate that the uniform of a spinster was required to be so dull and cumbersome, she thought.

"Why on earth are you insisting on wearing that horrid thing?" Jane queried, as the two sisters left the hall, locking the door behind them.

"It is appropriate for a woman of my station," Mary sniffed.

"And what station is that?" Jane asked as the two girls set off toward home, "Grandmother?"

"Spinster," Mary hissed, not wishing to be overheard, "I don't know if you've realised Jane, but after my failure in London, my chances of finding a husband are now gone. I was upset, at first, but I have now decided that I will dedicate myself to making certain that a similar fate does not befall you, or any of my sisters."

"Have you gone mad?" Jane queried, her brown eyes blinking in confusion, "You might be two and