She wasn’t the eldest or the bravest or the most beautiful. Respectively, Catie, Josie, and Ashley fit those roles. Maddie had always been the most privileged. Her father was the Earl of Castleigh—rich and powerful.
But privilege was not something one chose, nor something Maddie enjoyed. She would have much rather been courageous or beautiful or wise. Instead, she was frequently described as kind and tenderhearted. Boring descriptors, especially for a girl of eight, but she figured it was the best she could expect.
She scooted onto her bed next to her cousins, and Ashley elbowed her. “Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?”
Maddie wanted to groan. Fun? Her insides still jittered from the so-called adventure, and her hands shook as they tried to hold the almond biscuit.
“You know . . . ” Catie said quietly. Maddie thought she looked almost dead from fatigue. “Once we grow up and marry, we won’t be able to have adventures like this anymore. Our husbands won’t let us.”
Now, this was a new idea, and one Maddie rather liked. No more climbing out windows. No more scratchy—er, rather comfortable—boys’ clothing or dark city streets.
Josie sat forward. “When I become a pirate, I won’t need a husband. I’ll have loads of treasure all for myself.”
“And I’m going to have lots of adventures,” Ashley said. “I won’t have time for a husband, especially a mean one.”
Everyone knew she was talking about Catie’s horrible father. He was even worse at being a husband than a parent.
“But how will you have money for adventures without a husband?” Josie asked. Maddie wondered the same.
“Well, I don’t care how poor I am,” Catie said confidently. “I’m not going to marry at all. Ever.”
Maddie blinked. It was a shocking statement, one she couldn’t imagine making herself. Not marry? Her father said it was a woman’s job to marry.
Of course, her mother laughed at her father when he said that because her father always assigned women roles they didn’t particularly want. Just the other day, when Maddie had tried to give a shilling to a little beggar boy on the street, her father scolded her because little ladies were not to consort with street urchins.
Little ladies weren’t supposed to consort with a whole list of other people and things as well: injured puppies, spirited horses, homeless children, the poor and downtrodden.
Maddie didn’t understand it. What good was all the wealth her family possessed if they didn’t share it?
When she grew up, she intended to help people. And if a husband would stop that, then Catie was right, and Maddie had no need of one either.
Maddie stood. “And I’m not going to marry either. Never. I don’t need the money. If you want, Catie, you can come stay with me. You too, Ashley, when you’re not on an adventure, and you, Josie, when you’re not on your pirate ship.”
Catie smiled at her, then sat up straighter. Maddie thought she looked awake and alive again. “I propose that we make a pledge, a promise never to marry. I’m the oldest, so I go first. I, Catherine Anne Fullbright, swear never, ever, ever to marry so long as I live. Now your turn, Maddie.”
“I, Madeleine Richael Fullbright, swear never, ever, to marry so long as I live. Now your turn, Josie,” Maddie said.
“I, Josephine Linet Hale, swear never, ever, to marry so long as I live. I promise to be a pirate!”
“Now you, Ashley,” Catie directed.
“I, Ashley Gweneira Brittany, swear not to marry for as long as I live. But you know what this means, don’t you?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “We’re going to be spinsters.”
Maddie didn’t like that word. No, not at all.
Then Josie said, “It won’t be bad to be unmarried if we’re all unmarried,” and Maddie felt a little better.
“So we’ll make it fun,” Catie interjected. “We’ll be the Spinster’s Club.”
“That’s right,” Josie agreed. “We’ll stick together. No men or mean girls allowed.”
Catie was the first to sit up, stick out her hand, and Maddie took it gladly. She felt warm and happy, safe in her room with her best friends surrounding her.
TEN YEARS LATER
“Lady Madeleine, I simply must have you. I must. May I call you darling?”
Maddie gave Sir Alphonse Pennebacker a shove, thrusting him back far enough that she could catch a breath of fresh air before his perfumed stench invaded her nostrils again. “No, you may not call me darling. In fact, Sir Alphonse, I asked you not to call on me ever again.”
