Autumn Glory and Other Stories Read Free Page A

in London? Mama says he is handsome.”
    “Handsome?” Iselle echoed distractedly. “I suppose, if you like sober-sided and stiff-rumped old men. Why, there’s never been so much as a hint of scandal to his name, not a single affaire or gaming debt or duel, only his stodgy accomplishments at those wretched peace conventions. No, I never met him, although I did see him a few times. But, but, Irma, you were right! He never dances, just stands in corners having boring conversations when he’s not at those fusty government conferences and things. I’d have to be a political hostess,” she wailed, “giving those interminable dinners where no one laughs or gossips or flirts. And you know I never understand any of that other talk about exclusions and excise taxes. You know I don’t!”
    “Sh, Ellie, don’t get yourself in a pelter. Mama says Wingate is retiring from the government to take up managing his properties.”
    “Worse and worse!” Iselle cried. “Then I’ll never get to London at all! How will I find out the latest fashions? Besides, in the country away from company, I’d have to talk to him all the time, every day!”
    “Yes, dearest, that is customary among husbands and wives.”
    “But, but, Irma, they say Wingate speaks eight languages! Eight!”
    Irma had no words of comfort for the beautiful wigeon who barely spoke one. She turned instead to her other sister, who had been quietly wringing her hands together in the corner of the sitting room the sisters shared.
    “What think you, Nessie? Can you be happy with Mr. Frye?”
    With blue eyes awash in tears, Inessa looked like an injured angel. Her chin trembled and her voice quavered, but she managed to say, “If Mama wishes it, I shall try to make him a good wife.”
    “But can you be happy?” Irma insisted. “Mama doesn’t have to live with him, you know.”
    Inessa swallowed. “A woman cannot simply follow her own heart in these things, Irmagard. You’ve always been too impetuous to see that there are higher goals than the mere pursuit of happiness. A daughter owes her parents obedience and…and deference to their wisdom.”
    Irma made an unladylike sound. “Is it wise to shackle you to a man nearly old enough to be your father and whose manners, moreover, smell of the shop no matter what airs he puts on for the countryside? That is not wisdom, Nessie, it’s greed for all that money he has.”
    “Well, at least I shall be able to accomplish a great many good deeds with all that wealth.”
    “What fustian. The man did not get to be a nabob by giving alms to the poor. And I am certain he won’t want his beautiful young bride going among the diseased and downtrodden. Can’t you see, Nessie, Mama just picked him because he is well-heeled and handy. She just wants to get rid of us.”
    Iselle dabbed at her nose. “I cannot see what you have to complain about, Irma. Your life won’t be ruined. You’ll still be able to muck about in the stables and tromp over the hills to visit the tenant farmers the way you’ve been doing. Algie won’t mind that you never learned to play the pianoforte or embroider.”
    “What you mean is that I can never hope for a better match.”
    “I never said that! It’s just that you and Algie have so much in common. Your…your outdoorsyness, and…and your freckles!”
    Irma laughed. “A fine basis for a marriage. You are as bad as Mama, but never mind. No one thought to inquire if I might enjoy a London ball, or even an intelligent conversation. You might be resigned to the fates Mama has assigned you, but I swear to you, I shan’t marry Algernon Thurkle. And no,” she said to Iselle, “I won’t go into any histrionic declaration that I’d sooner die. I’d more likely murder poor Algie first. But if you don’t want to hear my plans…” And she made to leave the room, flipping her damp skirts away from her legs.
    “Don’t you dare leave, you little worm, without telling us your plan!” Iselle