Page 6 of The Rules of Matrimony
The older spinster, Miss Peterson, was the worst of the two, a pencil of a woman, with her gray hair pulled back tight on her scalp. “Mrs. Tyler, Miss Tyler, what are you two doing up at this ghastly hour?” she asked.
Another famous Peterson statement, recognizable by its hypocrisy.
“On our way home,” Amie said at the same time her mother answered, “Visiting the graves.” Amie did not correct their mismatched statements but tugged her mother a few steps farther.
Miss Peterson stepped in front of them with a scowl. “Visiting your dead father? That man was useless, and you should be glad he is gone. He left you with nothing, and you were forced from your home like common beggars.”
Amie tugged her mother again, but it was no use. She would not budge.
“Common? Amie, did she say common?” her mother asked.
Gritting her teeth, Amie pasted on a fake smile. It seemed a conversation—or should she say, an exercise of patience—must occur, but she would do her best to keep it short. “Regardless of our misfortunes, we are happily situated, Miss Peterson, but thank you for your concern.”
Miss Peterson harrumphed and looked down her long nose at Amie. “Happy, indeed. You have finally returned only to be a burden to your relatives.” She turned her sharp gaze back to Mama. “You should have had a son. He could have provided for you.”
Amie felt Mama’s back straighten beside her and quickly inserted a response before Mama could. “Thank you again for another insightful observation, Miss Peterson. We shall be on our way now.”
Another tug and no movement from Mama.
“Sister, if either of us had a daughter, she would be married by the time she was eighteen.”
The younger, Miss Matilda Peterson, nodded. “Indeed, sister. How old is Miss Tyler again?”
“I am four and twenty,” Amie said, her careful patience waning. She had felt young just yesterday. She was aging by the moment. “Come, Mama, Aunt will be missing us.”
“If—” Mama’s reply was cut off by Miss Matilda’s gasp.
“Four and twenty?” Miss Matilda said.
Miss Peterson clucked her tongue. “Why, she is firmly on the shelf.”
The hurtful words stung, no matter their truthfulness.
Mama trembled beside her, and this time Amie was not quick enough to speak first. “It takes a spinster to recognize another spinster, does it not?”
Amie barely withheld her groan. No matter their impertinence, the Peterson sisters had money and a position in Chestervale, and Mama shouldn’t offend them. It would get back to their Aunt and Uncle, and then what?
Miss Peterson’s nostrils flared. “Why, I have never heard anything so rude.”
Mama opened her mouth to deliver another setdown, but Lady Kellen’s timely appearance made for a welcome distraction. She slipped through the gate and crossed over to them. She took Mrs. Tyler’s arm, leaned over and whispered something to her—no doubt an embarrassed goodbye ... and a particularly long one at that.
Amie thought she caught the wordfavor. And something aboutfamily name. Lady Kellen caught Amie watching her, and with a twinkle in her eye, delivered a promising smile her way. The driver alighted from his seat and swung the carriage door ajar. Lady Kellen hurried toward him, and with a strong hand, he whisked her inside.
As soon as the carriage door shut, Miss Peterson’s shrewd eyes pinned Mama in place. “Whowas that?” she hissed. “A woman of consequence, no doubt, but I cannot abide veils. Only the guilty should want to hide their face.”
Mama did not answer her question. Instead, she asked one of her own. “What were you saying about my daughter being on the shelf? Upon my honor, she is not.” Mama’s voice was oddly firm.
“Mama, please,” Amie begged. They needed to hurry home so they could begin writing letters of apology, not stay here and make matters worse.
Miss Peterson batted a hand in the air, unfazed. “We have already established that Miss Tyler has reached the age where it is obvious she is unwanted by any men. Now who was that strange woman? I must know.”
Mama cleared her throat and spoke louder. “My daughter is not an old maid, because ... because she is engaged to be married.”
Silence.
Utter silence.
And perhaps a little choking on Amie’s end. She needed air and fast!
