The Bachelor List by Jane Feather Read Free Book Online Page B

handed them a scrap of paper. “Now, I'm going to write my piece about this evening while you two finalize the layout.” She sat down at the secretaire, pushed aside a toppling pile of papers, and took up her pen.
    Her sisters settled companionably to their task while their sister scribbled behind them. It was the usual division of labor, since Constance, as the most fluent writer of the three, penned the majority of the longer articles.
    “I've had another idea,” Chastity said suddenly. “Rather on the same lines. Why don't we provide a personal column . . . you know, if someone has a problem they write in and ask for advice. Then we publish the letters and give advice.”
    Constance looked up from her work. “I don't see myself giving advice,” she said. “I have enough trouble organizing my own life.”
    “That's because it takes you forever to make up your mind,” Prudence said. “You always see both sides of every question, and then a few extraneous aspects as well.”
    “'Tis true,” Constance agreed with a mock sigh. “At least until I do finally make a decision. Then I'm constant as the evening star.”
    “That is also true,” Prudence conceded. “I'm not good at dispensing advice either, most of the time I can't see what people are worrying about. I think Chas should do that column, she's so intuitive.”
    “I'd like to,” Chastity said. “And to get the ball rolling I'll make up a problem letter. We'll only use initials to identify the writers so people will feel secure about making their problems public.” She sucked the tip of her pencil. “What kind of problem?”
    “Love's always a good bet,” Constance suggested. “Torn between two lovers, how about that?”
    She blotted her paper and reread the three paragraphs she had written. “There, I think that'll do. What d'you think?” She carried the paper to the sofa and took up her glass again, taking a sip as she watched her sisters' reactions.
    Chastity gave a little choke of laughter. “Con, this is scandalous.” She began to read aloud. “‘This evening, the Right Honorable Max Ensor, newly minted Member of Parliament for the county of Southwold in Essex, made his social debut at the delightful musical soirée given by Lady Arabella Beekman in her charming mansion on Grosvenor Square. Mr. Ensor is the brother of Lady Graham of 7 Albermarle Street. The Right Honorable Gentleman turned quite a few heads as an eligible newcomer to Society, and several anxious mamas were seen jockeying for a chance to introduce him to their daughters. It is unknown whether Mr. Ensor is a fan of the opera, but he certainly made fans of his own this evening.' ”
    Prudence whistled softly. “Declaration of war, Con?”
    Constance grinned. “Could be.”
    “Well, it's outrageous,” Prudence said, chuckling. “It's not really about the soirée at all.”
    “Oh, it goes on,” Chastity said. “Descriptions, lavish praise for the singer, some faint disapproval of the Gluck aria . . . so you were listening, Con . . . and a nice little tidbit about Glynis Fanshaw and her new escort.” She looked up. “Was Glynis really escorted by that old roué Jack Davidson? She's really scraping the barrel.”
    “I didn't say that,” Constance said piously.
    “No, and I suppose you didn't imply it either.” Chastity shook her head. “People are certainly going to have some fun with it.”
    “That is the idea, after all. Where shall we insert this?”
    “Inside the back page. We'll save the fluffy stuff for that page and hope that readers will be distracted by Con's serious pieces on their way to the cream.”
    “On the nursery principle of bread and butter before cake,” Prudence mused. “How's the problem letter coming along?”
    “I've kept it very simple,” Chastity replied, “but who should they be writing to? Dear
who
?”
    “Someone grandmotherly,” Prudence said. “Smelling of gingerbread and starched aprons.”
    “Aunt Mabel,” Constance