The room was already prepared for Mabel and her sister's stay, so settling in didn't take them much time. Or it shouldn't have had, if Hazel wasn't so fussy about her dresses.

While waiting for Hazel to stop fretting over a wrinkle, Mabel lifted the lace curtain to view a cheery gravel trail lined with the plaster plant stands in Greek vase shape. They spilled nasturtium vines over their sides, which, on this sunny June day, boasted a riot of colour against the fresh green of the grass.

The sun's warmth filtered through the glass, as if asking for admission into the room.

"Oh, fine, do come in." Mabel had to struggle a little before the windowpanes released their grip on the frame. With a pleased sigh, she settled on the seat next to the open window, letting the gentle breeze caress her face. The private view would have made a delightful sketch.

Meanwhile, her sister examined the state of her afternoon dress after the journey and cringed.

"Why were you so mean to Miss Carter this morning?" Mabel asked, fanning herself with her hat.

This succeeded in finally luring Hazel's gaze away from the midnight-blue satin. She harrumphed in a decidedly plebeian fashion. "Your daring Miss Carter thinks too highly of herself. No wonder her nose is so upturned."

"I didn't notice it at all," Mabel objected.

"How could you have missed the shape of her nose? It's almost obscenely pointy."

A frustrated sigh built up in Mabel's throat. "No, Hazel, it didn't escape me how her features are shaped. What I didn't notice is that she puts up airs."

"Then you are a silly goose, Mabel." Hazel gave the lace trim at the cuffs another smoothing, then replaced the dress in the wardrobe. The door screeched in protest of being opened and shut so much.

From there, she turned to Mabel and pursed her lips in a way that made her resemble Mrs. Walton too closely for comfort. "Why else would she have laughed so dismally when extolling Mr. Chesterton's appearance? That's because she holds us as shallow."

"Haven't you been just a little bit shallow, asking after the gentleman you do not know?"

Hazel clicked her tongue, dismissing Mabel's question. The sunshine filtering through the window earned a suspicious look. "You better shade your face before you get a sunburn."

Mabel restored the hat back on her head, tying the ribbons tightly under her chin. She didn't get sunburnt, but her skin browned mercilessly which was worse. It made her look like a renter out in his field all day, and no amount of powder could conceal it.

Hazel observed her as closely as she'd just done the dress before wedging herself next to her. "That's better."

"I am glad you approve."

For a second they sat in silence, the argument still lingering in the fresh-cut-grass scented air.

"Please, whatever opinion you hold on Miss Carter, do not spoil this visit for me," Mabel pleaded at last. This feud her sister was picking with Miss Carter was remarkably ill-timed.

Hazel's shoulder bumped against hers in a tiny, not at all reassuring, shrug.

She clasped Hazel's hand into her lap. "Please? I'd die if I lose Miss Carter's friendship. I'd suffocate with nobody to talk to."

"I imagine Mother would take exception to such a statement," Hazel said softly. "If it was carried to her."

"Hazel! You are awfully petty today!"

Miss Carter and the library she generously shared; the cleverness and wit of her letters; Mabel treasured these niceties and would have surely hated to be torn away from them. Hazel on the other hand... Hazel was cut out of a different cloth.

"Perhaps," Mabel said with a devious little grin, "perhaps we can induce Miss Carter to share her recollections about London?"

"Oh, have it your way!" Hazel exhaled through her pouting lips, "but I'll first tell you what I've deduced from Miss Carter's comport and you can be a judge if I am unfair."

Relieved that the storm had passed, Mabel squeezed her sister's tiny gloved hand. "Whatever did you deduce?"

"She was in love with this Caliban, and he had rejected her advances."

Hazel's amazing eyes stared at Mabel, imploring her to agree, yet she couldn't imagine how such a turn of events was even remotely possible. For one, how could a woman fall so hopelessly for a hideous man? For another, why wouldn't Lord Chesterton return Miss Carter's affections if it were so? Why wouldn't he marry her? Both were of excellent families highly regarded in the Lake District.

"What a fanciful tale this would make, but I can't imagine how this could be true," Mabel said judiciously.

"It very well could be," Hazel insisted. "That's why she still pines after him, but invents how she doesn't seek to marry only to look down on us."

"Balderdash!"

It was! However, Miss Carter's cheerful disposition was indeed at odds with the common belief that an unmarried life was miserable for a gentlewoman. Everyone, everyone sought to avoid it. Some girls went so far as to wed beneath their station, to wealthy peasants and their ilk. Some entered the ranks of governesses if the family's circumstances didn't permit them to keep an old maid in perpetuity. The more fortunate ones lived on the income provided by the family, like Miss Carter did. But Mabel had never heard of anyone else who enjoyed being single.

Even so, Hazel's conjectures made no sense. "If Miss Carter is as hopelessly in love as you say, I cannot see the reason for her to be in such high spirits. Unrequited love is all suffering."

"Since when have you become such an authority on it?" Hazel asked suspiciously. "Has your heart been claimed in secret?"

Mabel's hands flew to her cheeks. "What a dastardly thing to say! You're absolutely insufferable today, seeing romances where there are none."

Triumph rang in Hazel's voice. "Then you wouldn't know how Miss Carter should feel."

"I very well would!" she protested. "The outwardly signs of concealed passion are sighs from the bottom of one's heart, unbidden tears and sleepless nights. It's universally known and awfully inconvenient in my opinion."

This argument was undefeatable, she only needed to bring it home. "And have you ever seen Miss Carter with a drawn face or circles under her eyes?"

"Naturally, she hides it." Pink spots bloomed on Hazel's high cheekbones, like the roses of May.

Her eyes lifted to Heavens asking for patience. "Why, why would she?"

"She thinks herself to be better than us, that is why. For having lived in London and her other accomplishments. Speaking Spanish and Italian on top of German and French, and the harp on top of the piano. Pooh."

"She is very accomplished indeed," Mabel agreed. It didn't pacify Hazel, nor was it intended to. Hazel's battle with foreign tongues was decisively lost.

It wouldn't be her sister if she didn't catch the verbal barb out of the air and sent it right back.

"The refinement is welcome, but too much is off-putting in a lady," Hazel said as hauntingly as a woman three times her senior.

"Have a green dress made. It would suit that envy very nicely."

"On top of it, she rubs everyone's noses with her friendship with the Chestertons. Why, I don't like her at all."

"What utter nonsense," Mabel said, shaking her head. It was her prerogative to exercise moral authority in Mrs. Walton's absence. "Let us not talk of this again and go see the spyglass instead."

"Oh, suit yourself. Play with the spinsters' toys, sister."

In the interest of peace, Mabel left the last volley unanswered and sauntered out of the bedroom.

***

The spyglass proved interesting even in the daytime. Or particularly in daytime, as Amelia professed once they've settled on the balcony.

It had a brass case, and was installed on a stand of the same material, on the extension's balcony. It may have protruded ungainly for a soul concerned with the architectural harmonies, but as an observation platform it was peerless, opening on a green vista of rolling hills, glittering lakes and estate houses.

A separate enclosure protected the instrument from the elements, with the sliding panels that could be opened to point the spyglass at the sky or in any other desired direction.

That morning, the ladies desired to point it in every direction.

Even Hazel had to admit, however unwillingly, that she found herself amused by the details the spyglass revealed. Mabel was enchanted.

The copses of trees fell into the individual specimens through the magic of magnification. She could see every leaf trembling, even on the topmost branches, better than she could have ever seen them when she stood right next to it.

The boughs teemed with squirrels, robins and smaller birds, making her wish she knew names for them.

When she directed her scientifically enhanced gaze at the ant-like beings on the ground, they transformed back into life-sized humans. Nigh every wrinkle and hair could be counted from a mile away!

To excite her anticipation of the nightfall even further, Miss Carter promised that the craters and the other features on the Earth's celestial companion's pale face would be equally distinguishable through the spyglass.

They took turns for the remainder of the morning, before finally deciding to have the lunch served in the garden pavilion. Afterward, Miss Carter legislated a siesta, the custom afternoon slumber in the hotter climes, so that the company might be refreshed before their pursuit of the stars.

Fate declared this carefully laid plan to be disrupted.

Miss Carter, the last one to take her turn at the spyglass, straightened from the bronze tube with an exclamation of slight dismay.

"Amelia, my dear," she said, picking up the velvet cover to drape the instrument. "Could you be so kind as to inform the cook that we shall need an extra setting for lunch, and for a voracious appetite. It appears we have a visitor."

Mabel's heart skipped a beat, for from the expression on Miss Carter's face, she grew convinced that the visitor was none other than the man who so rudely usurped their conversation on their morning ride. She instinctively stepped forward to the spyglass, colliding with Hazel.

Amelia glided in the opposite direction to disappear through the glass doors and make the requested arrangements.

Alas, neither sister could satisfy her curiosity through the marvel of technology: Miss Carter was already tying the black silk ribbons that held the covering in place.

"Just when it finally became fun." Hazel pouted, but not for long. Within a minute, there was no need to augment their natural abilities. The visitor could be seen well enough with a naked eye.

The gentleman rode a chestnut horse in such a dare-devil manner, that Mabel's breath caught in her chest.

A dark-green jacket hugged his wide shoulders fetchingly, in combination with the riding leggings and boots. He wore his coal-black hair long, after the romantic German fashion, to touch his shoulders.

Mabel and Hazel exchanged a glance, agreeing silently betwixt themselves that this was Everett before Miss Carter confirmed it.

"I believe Mr. Chesterton has graced us with his company."

Her tone led Mabel to think that maybe, just maybe, Hazel had a point, and the spinster amused herself with how excitable their senses were.