Page 60 of The Muse of Maiden Lane

Stella’s spine went rigid at the reprimand. It was one thing for Amanda to meddle in every other aspect of Stella’s life, but to dare to interfere with her riding?

“I don’t believe in absolutes,” Stella said with a creditable degree of composure. “Words like always and never leave no room for extenuating circumstances.”

“Are there any such circumstances when it comes to riding so recklessly?”

Stella could think of half a dozen or more. But there were only two that applied to her wild rides on Locket. “My horse requires a good gallop to keep her civil,” she said. “As do I.”

“Requires,” Amanda repeated with a titter of indulgent amusement. “Such an interesting choice of words. One requires so little in life, really. And do consider, if you would but exercise self-restraint in your habits, you would find yourself amply rewarded by your brother’s esteem. Pray, let me be your example.”

“You are too kind,” Stella said tightly.

“I might offer guidance in other respects as well,” Amanda continued. “Your brother tells me that you’re eager to engage a drawing master?”

“I’ve made inquiries, yes,” Stella admitted. She hadn’t had much luck in her search. All the gentlemen drawing masters recommended to her had either been too far away, or too expensive.

“A costly indulgence,” Amanda said. “And an unnecessary one now I am here. My watercolors have often been praised in Exeter. I shall be pleased to offer you the benefit of my humble expertise.”

“How generous of you,” Stella said.

Behind them, Amanda’s mother entered the hall on Daniel’s arm. She acknowledged Stella’s presence with a cool nod. Mrs. Trent rarely paid Stella any attention, unless she was making herself infamous in some way. The remainder of the time Mrs. Trent treated her future son-in-law’s sister as someone possessing no more importance than an unattractive piece of furniture in an otherwise pleasant room. A shabby chair or a garish ottoman, jarring in its appearance, but easily dispensed with at the first opportunity.

“Careful with that!” she snapped at the footman who was trailing behind them, struggling with the larger of her trunks. “It contains more than your position is worth!”

“Beg pardon, ma’am.” The footman readjusted the heavy trunk on his shoulder.

“Good servants are impossible to come by,” Mrs. Trent said to Daniel. “It stems from laziness. A great affliction among the poor, and one of the chief reasons for their sad state. You’ve referenced it yourself in your scholarly writings.”

“Quite true, madam,” he said. “Laziness is a terrible vice.”

Stella shot a look of apology to both the footman and Mrs. Waltham, the latter of whom had received Mrs. Trent’s words with an expression of barely concealed outrage. “Laziness isn’t at issue among the people of Fostonbury,” Stella said. “We’re all hard workers hereabouts. Isn’t that so, Mrs. Waltham?”

“Yes, miss,” the housekeeper answered with offended dignity.

“Would you be so good as to bring the tea tray in?” Stella asked her. “Miss Trent and her mother will be in need of refreshment after their journey.” Extricating herself from Amanda’s steely grasp, Stella moved to ascend the stairs. “Please allow my brother to entertain you while I change out of my riding things. I shall be back promptly.”

The remainder of the day devolved at a rapid rate. By the time Squire Smalljoy arrived for dinner, Stella’s nerves were rubbed raw, and Daniel, who had already been growing weary of her at the best of times, had since—under the barrage of helpful criticism from Amanda and her mother—begun to look on Stella as the greatest burden of his life.

Add to that the old-fashioned masculine condescension that the squire spewed forth with every breath, and the evening possessed all the necessary ingredients for absolute disaster.

Stella had only to hold her tongue until the final course was served to avert catastrophe. It shouldn’t have been difficult. Neither Daniel, Squire Smalljoy, nor the Trents required conversation from her. She had only to answer yes or no, to smile dumbly, and to bob her head in agreement with every insipid remark.

Naturally, she did none of those things.

“You can’t honestly consider Lord Palmerston to be a moral authority,” she said in response to a comment the squire had made about the prime minister. “The reports of his sordid affairs are too many to number. I’ve heard that some in Westminster have taken to calling him Lord Cupid.”

Her words were met by four shocked faces at the round, lace-covered mahogany table.

Squire Smalljoy was the first to break the appalled silence. “A politician’s personal indiscretions don’t matter a jot when his policies are in good order,” he said as he chewed an oversized bite of fatty mutton. He was a hearty man with a hearty appetite, in every respect. White-haired and full-whiskered, he ate and drank with gusto, rode hard to the hounds, and—at eight-and-fifty—had already sired a passel of children.

The clinking of cutlery resumed as the guests continued their meal. Mrs. Waltham had laid the table with care this evening, putting out their finest silver and the set of blue-and-white china bowls and plates that had belonged to Stella’s parents. Coupled with the lace tablecloth, sparkling glass goblets, and extra branches of costly beeswax candles, the effect was one of genteel elegance.

“His policies are no better,” Stella said. “Had Lord Palmerston not authorized soldiers to invade Peking three years ago, the Summer Palace would still be standing. Instead, it was burned to the ground. And what about his views on women’s suffrage?”

Mrs. Trent coughed loudly into her white linen napkin. Seated at Daniel’s left, she was clad in a plain dinner dress with an untrimmed matron’s cap over her hair. Amanda sat on Daniel’s right, garbed in a similarly modest fashion. She gave Daniel a speaking look.

Obedient to the unspoken plea from his betrothed, Daniel leveled a warning glare at his sister.

Stella ignored it. The only way to extinguish the squire’s interest in her was to illustrate how ill-suited they were. And she could hardly do that while remaining silent. “Palmerston says that it’s enough for fathers, husbands, and brothers to have the vote,” she continued, undeterred. “He claims they’ll act for the benefit of the ladies in their care. What he fails to consider—”