A light summer breeze tickled the satin ribbons underneath Joanna’s chin. With a grimace, she untied them, then whisked off her bonnet and tucked it under her arm.
“Do you know I despise hats?” she asked. “Cannot stand them. They itch, and they obscure my vision, and I wish I didn’t have to wear one every time I stepped outside.”
Charles frowned. “But that wouldn’t be proper.
“Ialsodespise being proper. There are too many rules to follow.” Her bonnet fluttered to the ground as she flung her hands out to the side. “Women can do this, but not that. We are supposed to be intelligent, but only concerning topics such as fashion, and household management, and what wine pairs best with what dish. We are supposed to be pretty, but not in a manner that would cause distraction. We are supposed to be perfect, but not so perfect that the men of our acquaintance feel undermined or challenged.” She dragged in a mouthful of air and Charles, who had remained silent during her impassioned speech, took a large step in retreat.
“You’re right, Miss Thorncroft.” He tugged at the collar of his jacket. “I—I do not believe we will suit.”
Joanna watched with some bemusement as Charles pivoted and walked briskly way…in theoppositedirection of his carriage. He’d realize his error soon enough. Just like he had realized they weren’t a good fit for marriage.
Thank goodness.
Picking up her bonnet, she gave it a quick shake before carelessly plopping it back on her head and striking out towards home. She knew Charles was what every young, unwedded girl from Somerville to Salem would consider a fine catch. He was pleasing to the eye, had all his teeth, and was as rich as a king. Or rather, his father was. How unfortunate, then, that Charles wasn’t looking for a wife.
No, what Charles—and all of Joanna’s previous suitors—desired was a pretty vase they could put up on a shelf. Something to admire from afar, and occasionally take down to show off to friends before they returned it to the top of the bookcase.
Well, she was no vase.
And she had absolutely no intention of spending the rest of her life accruing dust on some shelf. Even if the shelf was in a lovely mansion and her family could have desperately used the money such an affluent match would bring.
Something her sister, Evelyn (Evie to family and close friends), brought up as soon as Joanna walked through the door of their small, creaky house on the outskirts of the village square.
“He proposed, didn’t he?” Evie said after she’d taken one glance at Joanna’s face. “And you said no.Again.” Her mouth curling, Evie crossed her arms and scowled at Joanna from across the foyer. Which also doubled as a parlor. And a music room. And, when they had a guest, a bedroom as well.
Not so very long ago, Joanna and her sisters had lived in a grand brick manor in the center of town. There had been plenty of bedrooms to spare, as well as parlors with fifteen foot ceilings, and drawing rooms with beautiful, white wainscoting, and a sun-filled studio for Claire, the youngest, to do her art. Their home had beensolarge that their father, a physician of much acclaim, was able to see his patients in the formal study and their grandmother, who had helped raise the girls since their mother died when Claire was only a baby, had her very own wing.
They’d had tutors, and carriages, and an entire closet devoted to Evie’s extensive shoe collection. Money was of no consequence and, while they remained humble at heart, the Thorncrofts were considered to be one of Somerville’s most affluent families.
Then came the War of the Great Rebellion.
Four years of devastation that tore the country apart from the inside out. Family fighting against family. Brother again brother. Citizen against citizen. Dr. Jacob Thorncroft had been reluctant to leave his daughters, but his services were needed on the front lines, and he’d never refused to help those in needs.
For nearly eight months, their only correspondence with him had been through letters. He hadn’t made it home for Joanna’s sixteenth birthday, or Evie’s leading role as Juliet in the fall play at Chesterbrook Academy for Young Ladies, or Christmas.
But he’d always sent his letters, and his love, and there was never a doubt in Joanna’s mind that one day he would return to them.
And then one day he had.
In a pine box.
With his name scrawled at the bottom in pencil.
Once the initial shock had passed and the grief had changed from a knife being dragged through the flesh into a dull throbbing, Joanna and her sisters were dealt another blow. Without their father’s income, they could not afford to sustain the lifestyle they’d grown accustomed to.
At first, under the guidance of their grandmother, they made do by selling off the paintings and the furniture. Then the carriages and the horses. Finally, on a day stained by tears and helpless regret, they said goodbye to their beloved childhood manor and used the money garnered by the sale to purchase a two-bedroom cottage a mile out of the village.
It had been a difficult transition, made even harder by all the other changes that soon followed. Evie had to leave Chesterbrook mid-year as the tuition was prohibitively expense, Claire was never given the opportunity to attend, and Joanna halted all plans to go on a grand tour of France with her dearest friend, Louisa, a trip they’d been planning since they were practically in pinafores.
Their forced sacrifices allowed them to survive and, in the six years that followed, they learned to make do with simple things. But none of the sisters, with perhaps the exception of Claire, who was nearly too young to remember, forgot what it was like to have everything. Which was why, when Joanna and Evie came of marriageable age, they set their sights on making a fortuitous match that would help lift them out of poverty.
Or, at least Evie did.
“Iknewyou’d refuse Charles. I just knew it.” As different from Joanna in appearance as she was in demeanor, Evie had lustrous black hair she brushed exactly one hundred times each morning, a flawless, ivory countenance with nary a blemish or freckle to be seen, and blue eyes that held a hint of violet. She was also shorter, only five feet two inches to Joanna’s five foot nine, but what she lacked in height she more than made up for in temperament.
Born only eighteen months apart, the two sisters had begun quarreling in infancy and they’d never stopped. Or so that was how it often felt.
One issue that had been particularly contentious as of late was Joanna’s adamant refusal to take any of her many marriage proposals. Evie saw nothing wrong with marrying a man because of what he could provide, regardless if those provisions included love or not. And Joanna didn’t care what her future husband could provide so long as he loved her unconditionally.
