They moved within and sat quietly, the clock in the room ticking almost ominously.

“I know what happened yesterday, Elinor,” Emma announced in her gentle way.

Elinor flicked a humorless smile at her. “I thought you might. Nothing else to say to me, all things considered.”

Emma gave her a look, clearly choosing not to comment on the statement. “Edmund told me everything.”

Of course, he did.

“I’ve never been more disappointed in our brother,” Elinor murmured, shaking her head. “He agreed with everything the blackguard said.”

“Surely, you know Edmund better than that,” Emma countered as she patted her daughter’s back. “He adores the Spinsters; he finds it all a great laugh. He would never say anything against them.”

Elinor scowled at that. She really did know it, knew Edmund was a bit of an idiot, but no villain. “So he was merely agreeing to avoid confrontation?”

Emma sighed as she shifted her hold on the baby, tossing her long plait over one shoulder. “Elinor, forgive my saying this, but are you really so prejudiced that you can’t see the truth in front of your face?”

Elinor’s jaw dropped and she gaped at her sister, feeling as though her side had been lanced with the accusation.

“Darling,” her sister went on, her tone sympathetic, “Mr. Davis had asked Hugh Sterling how he had come across the Spinsters in the first place. Hugh was obliging him by relating the tale, every nasty piece of his involvement. He denied nothing and had nothing but praise for the Spinsters.”

“I heard them,” Elinor reminded her, wagging a finger. “He spoke of the article he wrote and said we deserved it.”

“After which, he rolled his eyes and shook his head.” Emma tucked a strand of hair out of her face and smiled at Elinor again. “He spoke of your influence with admiration, not grudgingly. And Mr. Davis is a sarcastic man, which you would know if you had spent any time around him. He doesn’t think poorly of the Spinsters, either. He doesn’t even know them, apart from the papers.”

Elinor chewed on her lip, her sister’s words having more an effect than she would have liked to admit. They chipped away at the walls she had thrown up the night before, and she felt those walls becoming rather unstable.

Emma rose gracefully, moving to open space to sway her suddenly fussing daughter. “Elinor, only moments before they entered the kitchen, Edmund says they spoke nothing but praise of the Spinsters, and of you in particular.”

The walls crumbled and Elinor could only exhale a pained breath. “And Joan?” she asked, swallowing hard. “Edmund said he couldn’t wait to tell Joan.”