“Do you still write your sister regularly?” she finally asked.
“As you direct, so do I comply. We write once a week like clockwork.”
“That is excellent, though you may wish to temper your compliance with my suggestions. Half of my ideas are terrible.”
I chuckled. She was fooling nobody.
“Have you completed your project, now that you are out and the original purpose has been satisfied.”
“I continue apace,” she replied sheepishly. “I have little hope of one of us marrying a man wealthy enough to make my mother’s precarious jointure superfluous; and some of my sisters may never marry. A few of us will eventually wed lesser men, but my mother will almost certainly outlive my father by at least a decade, and besides that—”
“—besides that, it is the most interesting thing you do,” I supplied, since it seemed obvious, given how she described her life. She might have been better off born to a tradesman.
“Correct! You can have no concept of how dreadfully dull the life of a gently bred woman of modest means is. You get to ride, shoot, fish, go to school, study anything you like, travel wherever you want… and… and… well, you get the idea. Ladies may work on the dreaded accomplishments,, go to the occasional entertainment, read what our fathers allow, walk where our fathers allow, visit relatives when our fathers allow, visit entertainments when our fathers allow—”
Since she said the words ‘accomplishment’ and ‘fathers’ like a dread disease, I was getting the picture.
“I shall not claim to understand, but I can empathise.”
She shook her head, as if she truly wanted to be done with the disagreeable subject, an idea I could easily get behind.
“Remember that when your sister comes out. Her life will have different challenges. For me, the worst is the tedium of low circles and low expectations. For her, the worst will be the terror of high circles and high expectations.”
The thought struck me like a club, but I finally got my tongue moving again. “That is incredibly perceptive. I must give it some thought.”
“You will do the right thing when the time comes. I am certain of it.”
I liked her faith but suspected it was misplaced. To date, my sister may as well have been raised by wolves, but perhaps the school could improve on her crusty father and two bachelors for guidance. It seemed achievable, given how low that standard was.
Not prepared to delve deeper into that, I suggested she tell me about her project.
“I wasted six months learning about four-course crop rotation and trying to get my father to at least try it.”
I chuckled grimly. “I can see your hair is still flat from him patting your head.”
She joined my grim chuckle. “I finally gave up and went back to selling everything not nailed down.”
“Any progress?”
“Some, but the pickings are getting slim.”
That was hardly surprising. What was surprising was that she had worked at it so long and accomplished as much as she had. No quitter—our Miss Smith!
I said, “I did a bit of studying about entails and spoke to an attorney. He is a good friend, and blissfully devoid of a single unwed relative of any kind.”
“A handy thing to have.”
“He suggested something a bit… well… sneaky might be a good word. Some might be tempted toward underhanded… dishonest… that sort of thing… but I would dispute such.”
“Do go on,” she said, showing real enthusiasm.
“Let us say the inventory lists a ‘drawing room sofa’ or even gives a more specific description. Let us further suppose your mother bought a new sofa at some time or other.”
“Both correct,” she said suspiciously. “I think she is prouder of that sofa than some of her daughters.”
I flinched but did not pause. “Now, let us say a good sofa is worth, say forty pounds, but the worst one in the world is worth five.”
I saw the light come into her eyes, and she completed the thought. “I need a man who could supply a terrible sofa on little notice and store our good sofa somewhere until we work it out. That one item could save us thirty pounds. It is the furniture versions of the swarm of locusts.”
