“D’you know, I’m becoming quite fond of that pairing,” Ellen told her in a matter-of-fact manner, as she usually did. The girl flopped down onto the couch beside Elinor and sighed. “I think he should propose straightaway.”

Elinor coughed a faint laugh. “Do you, Elle? It’s only been a couple of days, and all we know is they appear to be fond of each other.”

Ellen gave her a dark look. “Barbara is smiling like it’s her birthday and she’s received a pony. Mr. John is continuously fascinated by whatever she says, which is a rarity, and he had her arm the entire time she skated. If they’re not perfectly paired, I despair of all marriages.”

“Careful,” Elinor warned, smiling fondly at her cheeky sister, so much like herself. “The family will call you either a matchmaker or a marriage cynic.”

“Oh, what, like you?” Ellen scoffed loudly, not having a care at all if anyone else heard her. “Absolutely ridiculous. Barbara’s a spinster, anyone would say it, but no one ever despaired of her. Not particularly fair to you, is it? You’re not a spinster by age, but everyone despairs of you.”

Barbara instantly went red, her eyes wide, and she stiffened at suddenly being involved in the conversation by association.

The humor Elinor had been feeling faded at once. “Ellen…”

“I don’t understand it at all,” her sister went on, her voice rising. “I adore the Spinsters and their Chronicles, and one can hardly claim they are improper when four have married excellent men. Not to mention Emma snatching Partlowe.”

“Steady on,” Partlowe replied, the color fading from his cheeks.

Emma did not look any better as she bounced one of her twin daughters on her knee. “Ellen.”

“What?” Ellen asked, looking around at the room. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You are wrong,” Cousin Joan replied simply, giving her youngest cousin a pitying look. “There is a great difference between Barbara’s situation and Elinor’s.”

“Explain that, if you please,” Ellen stated primly, even as her eyes flashed.

“Please don’t,” Elinor murmured, glancing over at Barbara, who shared a petrified look with her.

The room was silent, waiting for the continuation of what had started out as a quiet conversation between sisters, but was now a full family discussion.

And not a pleasant one at that.

“It’s quite simple, dear,” Joan began, her pitying smile spreading into outright condescension. “Barbara is exceptionally intelligent. She has a brilliant mind and is well educated. A bit plain, perhaps, but so are we all.”

Elinor glanced at Barbara again, and her poor cousin had lowered her eyes to the floor, her ears the color of holly berries.

Mr. John Winthrop didn’t look much better, his eyes on the window, his arms stiff by his side.

“But Barbara is not to be faulted for that,” Joan went on, her tone becoming almost sing-song in nature. “The right sort of man will find her educated mind charming. Elinor, on the other hand…”

Joan broke off to give Elinor a despairing look.