Page 61 of The Muse of Maiden Lane

“You do have opinions, missy,” the squire interrupted. “I blame you, Hobhouse. Shouldn’t let females develop such notions.”

“I’ve tried to educate her,” Daniel said apologetically.

“There’s your error.” The squire washed down his mutton with another mouthful of wine. “Education is wasted on the female brain.”

“Rubbish,” Stella said under her breath as she cut into her boiled potato.

Daniel flashed her another stern look across the table. Mrs. Trent and her daughter marked it, just as they’d marked all the others. It seemed to Stella that they exchanged a smug glance every time Daniel sent a scolding frown Stella’s way.

But though the Trents triumphed in her brother’s worsening opinion of her, they had no interest in seeing Stella brought low in Squire Smalljoy’s eyes. It was to both their benefit that the man think well of her. Once Stella was married, she would be out of her brother’s house and permanently out of Amanda’s way.

“I would agree with you, squire,” Mrs. Trent said, daintily dabbing at her mouth with her napkin, “if your reference is to those subjects better suited to young men. But I can’t believe you object to a young lady being schooled in the feminine arts.”

“Not to those subjects, no,” Squire Smalljoy said. “Singing, sewing, a bit of the piano, and a dabbling in French. Whatever course of study improves the prettiness of a girl and makes her a charming companion for her husband has my full endorsement.”

“My daughter is well versed in all of those subjects,” Mrs. Trent informed him proudly. “Along with a thorough course of spiritual education, which I’ve undertaken myself.”

Daniel looked at Amanda with glowing approval. “Miss Trent is a testament to your wisdom, ma’am.”

Amanda bowed her blonde head in meek acceptance of his praise. Her fair cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink.

Stella wondered if some ladies found it possible to blush on command. A useful talent, unquestionably, if one was trying to impress a pious country vicar with one’s modesty and virtue.

“I have done my best, sir,” Mrs. Trent said. “As have you, Mr. Hobhouse, in the absence of your dear departed parents. You are to be commended for your efforts. Miss Hobhouse will make some fortunate fellow a conformable wife.”

Stella choked on her potato. She reached for her wine, hastily draining the glass.

Daniel glared at her. “I did stress the importance of adherence to a traditional course of study to my sister’s governesses. But Stella has a mind of her own. She reads widely, and forms her own opinions.”

“You must guide those opinions, Hobhouse,” the squire said. “As must every man who has the responsibility of ladies under his care. No need for a woman to be troubling her head with politics or philosophy. Ladies should be small and quiet. It’s ever been thus in a happy home.”

“Perhaps in the past,” Stella said. She ignored her brother’s attempts to catch her eyes. “Modern minds take a different view. They understand that women are capable of making valuable contributions, both to scholarship and to conversation. Why, consider the Queen—”

“Small and quiet,” Squire Smalljoy interrupted, addressing Daniel, not Stella. “That’s a woman’s place. My daughters learned it in the nursery. Best to focus on being good little wives and mothers. On cheering a fellow’s spirits, not deadening his eardrums with all this newfangled nonsense.”

“Ah, motherhood.” Mrs. Trent beamed like a saint in a Renaissance painting. “The most sacred of institutions. A lady cannot wish for a more exalted state. Is that not right, squire?”

“Quite so,” he grumbled. “Quite so. A fine daughter you’ve raised there, too, madam.”

Amanda smiled, but said not a word. She didn’t talk overmuch in company. The bulk of her speech was saved for private asides. That was where her power lay: in pitting brothers against sisters and mothers against future in-laws.

“Motherhood is a role Miss Hobhouse is eminently suited for,” Mrs. Trent said. “Do you not agree, Mr. Hobhouse?”

“Oh yes,” Daniel concurred. “My sister is very fond of children.”

Stella refilled her wineglass. Her rising temper had been under questionable control all evening, but now, in the face of these blatantly obvious ploys to see her married off to a man she didn’t like, it threatened to bubble over completely. “On the contrary,” she said. “I find the company of children rather trying.”

It wasn’t true, of course. Stella was fond of children. Indeed, she’d always imagined she would have a family of her own someday. But to admit such a thing in the hearing of a gentleman like Squire Smalljoy would be tantamount to waving a white flag of surrender.

Too late, she realized that all she’d done instead was wave a red flag in front of a bull.

“What’s this?” The squire turned to her at last. “Don’t care for children?”

“It’s not uncommon,” Stella said.

“It’s unnatural, is what it is. Hobhouse! Did you know of this?”

Daniel gave a hollow laugh. “My sister’s poor idea of a jest. Pay it no mind.”