A Beautiful Dare

by Natasha Lester

Genres: General Fiction; Cultural Heritage; Short Stories; Romance; Historical Romance

Synopsis

A free short story set in the roaring twenties by the author of the deliciously evocative love story A KISS FROM MR FITZGERALD. It's 1922 in Concord, Massachusetts, a time when women are expected to do nothing more than marry as well as they can, as soon as they can. And whether she likes it or not, this is exactly what Evelyn Lockhart's conservative parents expect of her. While Evie's waiting for her handsome, wealthy neighbour Charles to propose, she has convinced her parents to let her study literature at college. But when a chance meeting leads to a day of exciting adventure, Evie begins to realise that there could be so much more in her future than marriage, if only she dared imagine it . . . If you loved THE PARIS WIFE and Z: A NOVEL OF ZELDA FIZGERALD, you will devour this short story that takes place before the full-length novel A KISS FROM MR FITZGERALD. 'I loved this book.' Rachael Johns, bestselling author of THE PATTERSON GIRLS 'I'm calling it, Natasha Lester is our generation's Louisa May Alcott.' Tess Woods, award-winning author of LOVE AT FIRST FLIGHT 'Remarkable, intelligent and heartfelt . . . one of the best Australian fiction releases of the year.' J. F. Gibson 'I absolutely adored Natasha Lester's book! What a GEM!' Sara Foster, bestselling author 'Exquisite!' Vanessa Carnevale, author and blogger

Release date: March 28, 2016

Publisher: Hachette Australia

Print pages: 55

Sample

A short story by Natasha Lester

Massachusetts, February 1922

Evelyn Lockhart scooped porridge into her mouth as quickly as she could and without a care for how she must look; there was nobody in the dining room and, with luck, she could escape before anyone was awake. Her spoon froze by her lips at the sound of her mother’s voice.

‘Evelyn, what were you doing this morning? Clattering around like a horse. I was hoping to have a lie-in.’

‘Did you have a busy day yesterday?’ Evelyn asked politely, just managing to swallow her sarcasm along with her breakfast.

‘Just coffee,’ her mother said to the maid, ignoring Evelyn’s remark. ‘I’m not hungry. Although, now I’m awake so early I might as well eat. Some toast perhaps. Or waffles. Yes, waffles. And toast. Some eggs as well, I think. And don’t forget the coffee.’

The maid nodded and left to get breakfast for the not-hungry Mrs Lockhart.

Evelyn finished her last mouthful and was about to push back her chair when her sister came into the room.

‘Evie, what were you doing this morning?’ Viola yawned, rubbing her eyes.

‘Clattering around like a horse,’ Evelyn replied impishly.

‘And where are you going? It’s still dark,’ Viola asked, sitting down and holding up her coffee cup, clearly too exhausted from the early start to pour her own. Luckily the maid was there to assist.

‘College,’ Evelyn replied impatiently, glancing out the window at the grey February morning that promised nothing but rain, and lots of it. ‘Just like I’ve done every Monday for the past year and a half.’

‘Oh, don’t start talking about college,’ Mrs Lockhart sighed, as she pricked her syrupy waffles with a fork. ‘Not at breakfast. Let’s have at least one meal without me having to wonder why I ever agreed to let you go to Radcliffe in the first place.’

Even though Evelyn secretly agreed that it would be delightful to share a meal where she didn’t have to listen to her mother listing all the reasons why attending Radcliffe was potentially ruinous for her future prospects, she couldn’t resist saying, ‘Literature is very decorous, Mother.’

‘Marrying Charles Whitman would be more so,’ Mrs Lockhart snapped.

‘Do you know what a man said to me at the Vermonts’ party last week?’ Viola said sweetly. ‘That the saying, Is she a Radcliffe girl, or did a horse step on her face? is quite popular right now.’

‘Mind your own potatoes, Vi,’ Evelyn said brusquely.

‘Evelyn!’ her mother said.

‘She just called me ugly,’ Evelyn retorted.

Her mother put down her fork. ‘Are people—men—really saying such things?’

Evelyn pushed back her chair. ‘I’m going to be late.’

Mrs Lockhart put a hand on Evelyn’s arm, stopping her. ‘Is it true?’ Her voice could have sliced through the china plate in front of her.

Silence spoke the words Evelyn didn’t want to say. That for a Radcliffe girl to have her face mistaken for one trodden on by a horse was comparatively complimentary when put beside all the other insults—witches, grinds—tossed at the women—the Cliffies—who dared to expand their intelligence.

‘Well,’ her mother said. She prodded her plate away. ‘I feel ill. I knew I shouldn’t have had breakfast.’

Evelyn took advantage of her freed arm to stand up. ‘If that’s all for this morning,’ she said flatly.

‘No, it’s not all.’ Mrs Lockhart wiped her mouth and studied her daughter. ‘If young men really are saying such things, then we need to make sure you meet Charles Whitman again before too much time passes. You haven’t seen one another since Christmas, when everyone noticed how solicitous he was towards you.’ Mrs Lockhart beamed at the memory of the praise heaped vicariously on her through her daughter’s success in fixing the attention of the wealthy Charles Whitman.

Evelyn shifted impatiently and her mother regained her ominous tone.

‘If Charles hears that …’ Mrs Lockhart shuddered at the memory of Viola’s words, ‘phrase, he won’t be inclined to give it any credence with the memory of your pretty face fresh in his mind. You know as well as I do that you can be most becoming when you try.’

Evelyn rolled her eyes but her mother had seized on the idea and was working through it with enthusiasm.

‘Perhaps you could engineer a meeting with Charles at Harvard? Yes, that is what you should do. And as soon as possible too.’

Evelyn was aware that she should just take the chance offered and leave, but her mouth opened: ‘Given that neither you nor Father will allow me to go beyond West Cambridge Station and the Radcliffe grounds, how ex. . .