A Rather Piquant Development

Gabrielle Jarvis and Josephine Greenway would normally prefer tar and feathers to a walk through the grove on a blistering August morning, but on this day, there was news to be dispensed. Laden with a parasol each and two broad-brimmed hats, they braved the foul heat and retreated, arm in arm, to gossip away from prying ears.

“Edward Cornstock has been... uncomfortable in recent weeks. Have you noticed, Gabrielle?”

“Oh, he has been acting in a peculiar way. Is he the subject of your revelation?”

“Really, dearest, you catch on like a baited fish,” cooed Josephine. She coyly whispered, “It is a delicious secret. Are you ready?”

Gabrielle smiled giddily with anticipation, and nodded vigorously. The lad in question had been suggested by several as having inclinations toward Ms. Jarvis, which were secretly– save for Ms. Greenway– requited by Ms. Jarvis. Providence would have it that the elder Mr. Cornstock was in league with Mr. Jarvis in talks of a match between the two, but nothing had yet been set forth.

Even now, he and his brother Oscar were approaching on horseback, with rifles tucked in and a solitary pheasant dangling by rope. The girls giggled as Oscar pulled up and doffed his cap.

“Morning, ladies,”– and, turning to Edward– “Oh, brother, will you say good morning also?”

“I, er... Good morning,” fumbled Edward. Looking quite blue, the man kicked his spurs violently, nearly leaving his fowl behind.

“Clearly, his words are befuddled,” said Josephine as the boys rode away, “and it is because his attention is arrested by one Lucille Austen.”

“Her?” gaped Gabrielle.

An eyebrow arched on Josephine’s face.

“Edward dined with her family in Leeds, and word has it that he cannot release his mind from her. The poor girl, thought to die an old maid: flat as a board and pale as an invalid. I suppose this means you’re second in line for Edward. But pray, while I go on clucking like a hen, your wisdom is caged! Let it fly!”

“Let’s first sit down,” suggested Gabrielle. 

Blithely, they scurried to the base of an apple tree and sat down.

“Last night, I went down to the lake... for a moonlight swim... oh, I can’t say it! With Steven the porter! Oh, Josephine, stop it, we didn’t do anything... oh, but we did!”

Unexpectedly, a large object flashed in front of their eyes, causing both girls to shriek. A man’s leg had fallen before them, and only a leg, with no man accompanying it. Petrified and puzzled, the girls saw a grizzled man– a man they recognized to be in Mr. Cornstock’s employ– hop into their company and point a shaky sausage of a finger at them.

“That’s why... one never talks about one’s private affairs in open airs.”

He retrieved his wooden leg, latched it onto special stirrups under his trousers, and hobbled away. Gabrielle’s wretched countenance bore no illusion of her thoughts: “I’ve made a huge mistake.”