The Amiable Aunt
again about the possibility of becoming an old maid.”
Aunt Clara’s rickety carriage rumbled down the lane toward the Kingswoods’ home, the dark, dingy interior illuminated with flickering patches of daylight cutting through the trees.
Tea with the countess had become a weekly occurrence since Aurelia’s initial visit five years before. Now twenty-three, Aurelia felt the earl and his wife were more like relatives than the strangers they’d once been, even with so much left unsaid between them. They never spoke of Captain Copson or what their sons did at sea—there was only their shipping business, which was mentioned vaguely and never discussed at length.
Hidden under a pile of old blankets, Aunt Clara didn’t even spare a salty look in response to her niece’s statement. “You would make a fine old maid. You’ve developed a rather haggish disposition since your debut.”
Aurelia smiled without showing her teeth. She had come to enjoy needling her aunt over the years, though now it was out of endearment rather than spite. “I learned from the best.”
Her aunt squawked a single laugh. “I promised your parents I would do my best. It’s no fault of mine that you’ve spurned every man who’s come your way.”
“None of them are worth anything.” Aurelia smoothed her hands over her skirt. It was burgundy, the color of blood, and made her think of the latest articles scaring the public. Copson had recently dispatched several Spanish naval ships as they pursued him off the coast of Portugal, only for them to discover the captain had somehow stolen most of their cannons before they left harbor, leaving only one per ship.
“I’ve decided not to court this season,” Aurelia said. “I’m tired of it.”
“I can’t force you, and I won’t. But should your parents inquire, I will tell them it is you who refuses to marry.”
“They don’t inquire.”
“They’ll notice your lack of matrimony eventually. God help you if they decide to get involved.” She leaned forward to peer out the window, then returned to her previous spot with a grimace after witnessing the insult that was the sun. “You talk to them, don’t you?”
Aurelia raised her eyebrows. “Do you think that’s what those letters are?” she asked, challenging her aunt to admit she knew better. Surely after nine years, William’s letters had been noticed and thought about by someone other than herself.
“Of course not,” Aunt Clara said. “Your parents don’t have the minds to write that much.”
“Why haven’t you said anything?”
Aunt Clara smiled, and it made her look quite pretty. “Because a young lady ought to have something to occupy her thoughts.”
“Do you know who it is?” Since her debut, Aurelia had gradually realized her aunt was more of an ally than a wicked witch, so her heart remained calm as the question passed her lips.
“There are so few people it could be—but don’t tell me.” She waved her niece into silence. “I shall figure it out on my own. Even an old spinster must have something to think about.”
Aurelia regarded her aunt solemnly. A long moment passed before she quietly asked, “Why did you take my books?”
Aunt Clara sniffed and stared out the window for so long that Aurelia wondered if she’d heard the question. As they rounded a bend and the Kingswoods’ home came into view, she finally answered. “You would have hidden in them and filled your mind with ridiculous notions like your mother did. And you would have married a prince with an empty head and pockets full of flattery. She wanted a fairy tale, and she was never satisfied—the story was always better than what she got.” She met Aurelia’s gaze. “Nevertheless, I’ve regretted the pain I caused you, and I love you enough to admit it.”
Aurelia flushed. Her aunt had never said such a thing. To admit that it had all been to keep Aurelia from becoming like the distant mother who’d abandoned her…well, Aurelia understood, even if she could not bring herself to agree.
“But I know you’ve found something worthwhile in those letters,” Aunt Clara said, “and they seem harmless enough. In fact, you’re quite sensible, and I like you all the more for it.”
Aurelia’s face warmed at such high praise from her aunt, but before she could answer, the carriage rolled to a stop, and a footman opened the door.
The countess, dressed in dark purple, greeted them when they entered the foyer. She clasped Aunt Clara’s hands, then took hold of Aurelia’s shoulders and kissed her cheeks.
“How are you, dear?” she asked as they strolled arm in arm toward the parlor after Aunt Clara.
“Very well.” Aurelia whispered it like a secret. “I am to be a spinster, and I confess I couldn’t be happier.”
The countess tutted, but a conspiratorial grin appeared as she leaned close and patted Aurelia’s hand. “You’re still so young—don’t despair on love.”
“Oh never,” Aurelia swore in the same clever tone. They drifted into the room and toward a table set with tea and tiny sandwiches. “I’ve merely despaired on suitors.”
The parlor hadn’t changed much, but today there was a notable difference—two fencing sabers leaned against the wall in the corner of the room, perfectly framed in a patch of sun. Their blades gleamed in the light.
Aurelia glanced at the countess, imagining her fencing with the earl. It was not a difficult image to conjure. Cecily Kingswood was the finest lady Aurelia had ever met, and now she realized the countess’s arms were lean and slightly muscular—just enough to make Aurelia wonder if the jewelry and manners concealed something fantastically wicked.
She supposed one would have to be to marry a pirate. William had never said anything about her, and Ralph had only ever painted his mother as the woman who’d raised him to be a gentleman. He’d told few stories of his childhood aboard the Fortuna Royale, in which the countess was never mentioned—as though she didn’t exist beyond proper society.
Aunt Clara groaned as she sat, completely oblivious to Aurelia’s contemplations. “My niece has told you she plans not to court this season.”
“No,” the countess said, pouring the tea as Aurelia took her seat. “Only that she plans to never court again.”
“Perhaps one of your sons could convince her otherwise.”
Aurelia choked on her first sip of tea and immediately began coughing. “I’m so sorry,” she rasped between bouts of hacking. “Forgive me.” She waved at Aunt Clara as though to say, And her.
“I would be delighted for her to marry one if it meant they’d be home more often,” the countess said as though nothing was wrong. Then, to Aurelia’s horror, she added, “If you can believe it, William will be thirty in two years, and it pains me to see him alone.”
A ragged gasp offended Aurelia’s efforts to purge the tea from her throat. Still, the other ladies paid her no heed as she fought for her life and fading dignity.
“Where are your sons these days?” Aunt Clara asked, not even sparing a glance in Aurelia’s direction.
The countess gave a demure smile. “I’m afraid I don’t know. They travel so much.”
“Do they write?”
She sipped her tea. “My youngest writes most often. Will and Ralph hardly think of it.”
Aurelia fanned herself, taking long, slow breaths through her mortification. She tried to stifle another cough and wheezed horribly.
“I hope they’re being wise while they—are you quite fine?” Aunt Clara finally turned her disapproving gaze on Aurelia.
“Yes,” Aurelia said, clearing her throat to bring her voice closer to normal. She lifted her tea. “I’m alright.”
Aunt Clara turned to the countess again. “As I was saying, I hope your sons are being smart, what with all those dreadful reports of pirates.”
Thankfully, Aurelia was not drinking this time, but she still hid her grin in her teacup.
“They know all they need to take care of themselves,” the countess assured Aunt Clara while watching Aurelia with dark, shrewd eyes. “They’re as wise as a mother could hope for.”
Aunt Clara rocked back, her face drawn and fingers clutching her saucer as fervently as her prayer beads. “That Captain Copson—I read the most awful things about him. Every week, it seems, he has done something more horrible than the previous.”
“He sank another slaver’s ship,” Aurelia said before realizing she shouldn’t know of such things when her aunt had gone to such lengths to destroy the papers. She paused for a blink before adding, “A while ago… Someone mentioned it at a ball, and I thought, ‘how terrifying,’ but also, ‘how brave’ and…” Catching Aunt Clara staring, she paused. “Pirates…are so worrisome… And I hope your sons are being very careful.”
The countess’ eyes betrayed nothing. “The papers say so many things. I stopped reading them ages ago. My husband keeps me apprised of anything that might catch my interest.”
“Probably for the best,” Aurelia said, eager to agree with anything to move them toward another subject as sweat pricked the back of her neck. It was petrifying to give voice to the topic of Captain Copson in the Kingswoods’ home—like walking over graves or summoning a ghost. The teacup rattled in her hand as she shivered.
The countess pulled Aunt Clara into a new topic about good help being hard to find these days. Aurelia faded into silence while her heartbeat returned to normal. The countess reached over to place her warm hand on Aurelia’s without pulling her focus from Aunt Clara.
Her fingers were delicate, her nails perfectly trimmed. Aurelia’s attention strayed once more to the sabers in the corner while the women discussed arbitrary things her aunt would happily pick apart for hours.
But they only stayed for an hour before they said their goodbyes and headed for the carriage. As Aunt Clara sighed and grumbled her way into her seat, Aurelia wrung her hands. When the footman turned to help her in, she stepped back.
“I forgot my glove,” Aurelia said quickly. “Please excuse me.” Then she rushed back into the house before her aunt could protest, and made for the parlor.
“…and I wonder how much she knows—” The countess cut off as Aurelia appeared in the doorway. The earl stood beside his wife, his gaze so heavy and direct that Aurelia’s breath hitched.
“I’m terribly sorry,” she said. “I don’t mean to barge in.”
“It’s fine,” the countess said, remaining seated. “Did you forget something?”
“Oh, yes, um, my glove.” Aurelia looked at her bare hands. “But… I’m so sorry, I actually didn’t wear gloves. I didn’t leave anything. I only wanted to ask…” Her eyes moved to the sabers again. The sun had shifted, no longer illuminating their presence. “Do you spar?”
Both the earl and the countess followed Aurelia’s gaze to the far side of the room. They glanced at each other before looking at Aurelia again.
“Yes,” the countess said. “Do you?”
Aurelia shook her head, shy and eager all at once. Unbidden, William’s words ran through her head.
I suggest you consider getting into some trouble slightly more frequently.
She wondered if he would consider this adequately troublesome. “No, but…might you be willing to teach me?”
The couple met each other’s gazes again, and this time the countess smiled. The earl gave a small, nearly imperceptible nod.
“I’d be happy to,” said the countess.
“Why do you wish to learn?” the earl asked.
Aurelia ducked her head, unable to help her grin. “Because my suitors were awful, and I have no brothers or a father to hold them accountable.” She looked up, hoping their son’s words would make them hear something of him in her excuse. “And since I refuse to partake in any more courtships, I must occupy myself with something interesting.”
The Kingswoods smirked. “Can you come tomorrow morning?” the countess asked. “Tell your aunt we are having lunch.”
Aurelia’s smile grew. “Of course.” She thanked them and left. She was nearly at the front door when she heard the earl say, “Ralph didn’t tell—I’m convinced it was Will.”
Upon their return home, a letter waited for Aurelia. Still in her gown, she flopped back onto her bed, uncaring for the wrinkles she was folding into the silk.
Aurelia,
Sailors are some of the grossest, ugliest people I’ve ever had the misfortune of knowing, and today I finally hit my limit.
It hasn’t been winter for nearly a month, and certain waters are warm enough to be in for at least a few minutes. This was not temptation enough for many of my crew, and so today, we dropped anchor and I lined them up on the main deck to tell them how much they all stink and that I hate them for it. I said whoever didn’t jump in the water and start scrubbing would be thrown in.
Most of them jumped. Some of them I pushed when they didn’t move fast enough, and I didn’t let down the ladder for a good five minutes, though I really should have held out for ten.
When you think this life might be exciting, you don’t consider the kinds of smells I have suffered as of late.
William
Burn this now—it’s an awful letter I’d like to believe I never sent to a lady.
Laughing, Aurelia read it once more before she swished to the hearth and set it gently into the flames.