Amelia Stirling gazed in surprised dismay as Valancy swept down the staircase. Her hair—what had she done with her hair? The pompadour was gone, her hair pulled back in a small knot. It didn't make Valancy bad-looking, but she had done it without her mother's permission; therefore, it had to be condemned.

At least, Amelia would have liked to condemn it, but 'Doss' had been so…off lately. Better to not say anything; who knew what sort of whim she might have next. With Herbert and Amelia's silver wedding looming in just half an hour, Amelia certainly didn't want one of Valancy's 'freaks' to happen among all the relatives.

But behind her, Christine Stickles was saying, "That hairstyle is unfit for Valancy. It simply exposes her plain face too much. The pompadour gave it structure!"

"Hush!" Amelia hissed.

"Well, Mother," Valancy said as she strode forward. Her voice was casual—too casual, Amelia thought, for addressing one's mother. "Shall we be off?"

Amelia forced a smile. "Yes, of course, D—Valancy." Mrs. Frederick had not called her daughter 'Valancy' instead of 'Doss' out of kindness. She had to humor the girl, to keep her placated and acting as a proper Stirling should act.

Things went along very well for most of the journey. At least, by Amelia's and Christine's observations. If they'd seen Valancy wave gaily to 'Roaring' Abel, that cursing, sinful, completely un-Stirlingish drunkard, they would have thought right then and there that Valancy had 'gone dippy'—to borrow the expression that a rather indelicate Benjamin would use later.

But then they came to Herbert's house.

"A house like that is a blasphemy," Amelia and Christine heard Valancy saying.

Amelia's mouth opened—and then shut again. She longed to rebuke Valancy, but feared it would be fatal. She, Christine and the aforementioned rebel filed into Herbert's house, where they were ushered into the dining room by one of Herbert and Alberta's two maids. Amelia disapproved of maids—it lulled one into idleness—so she walked airily by.

Uncle Herbert entreated the newly arrived trio to sit together, much to Amelia's relief. It would be so much easier to keep an eye on Valancy if she was sitting right next to her. She looked away from her daughter and scanned all the relatives. Yes, everyone was here—including Olive. Oh, why couldn't Valancy be like Olive! Olive knew what to say and when to say it. She knew how to 'look pretty'. She'd attracted men—many men—and was marrying one of the 'Port Laurence Prices'!

"Bless this food to our use and consecrate our lives to Thy service," Uncle Herbert said glibly, breaking into Mrs. Frederick Stirling's thoughts. Mary Wellington kept her head down for several minutes longer; when Amelia saw the way Valancy was observing this, she winced.

Evidently this had bothered Mary, too. The look on her face was one of discomfort.

"What herb is most injurious to a young lady's beauty?" intoned Benjamin, and he beamed toward Valancy.

No response from Valancy, who was supposed to say 'what?'

"Thyme," Benjamin said limply.

But the rest of the meal continued through its uneventful form in its early stages, and Amelia Stirlng relaxed a little. Herbert made his usual, far-tired joke to Mary Wellington—"Mary, will you have a little lamb?"—Jane whined of an aching tooth—and many of the others rehashed old anecdotes that had been told time and time again. Dull. But at least Valancy was being quiet and humble.

Then James asked everyone what 'the greatest happiness' was. Mrs. Frederick Stiring was the last to chime in, and 'stole the spotlight'.

"The greatest happiness is to spend your life in loving service for others," Amelia said. "We are all too prone to live in selfishness, worldliness and sin."

The older women looked defeated. Amelia was pleased.

And then Valancy spoke.

"The greatest happiness is to sneeze when you want to."

A flurry of worried looks and a few shocked frowns were exchanged among the gathering. Amelia sat as if frozen, but she did not rebuke Valancy. It might be dangerous. But Benjamin—Amelia wanted to throttle him—plunged forward and asked Doss another one of his stupid conundrums. Perhaps to bring Valancy down, but it had been careless of him.

Valancy gave the answer, to Benjamin's horror, but she did not stop speaking there.

"You have asked that riddle at least fifty times in my recollection, Uncle Ben. Why don't you hunt up some new riddles if riddle you must? It is such a fatal mistake to try to be funny if you don't succeed."

The look of shock on 'Uncle Ben's' face was one of stunned and displeased amazement. No doubt this sinful defiance from the usually quiet, detached Doss was a travesty to him. And it ought to be. Oh, but why was Benjamin now throwing her an accusing look, Mrs. Frederick thought in horror. He couldn't blame her for Valancy's 'freak'. Yet Amelia had a feeling that he did.

Valancy continued on with this saucy, dismissive attitude. Amelia let it go by in a blur until she heard her daughter—the daughter that should have been a son, or at least pretty—respond to Isabel's comments about Valancy's weight. Isabel only wanted to know if the former was trying to 'fill out'—Valancy was so thin. But Valancy only said:

"No, but I can tell you where you'll find a beauty parlour in Port Lawrence where they can reduce the number of your chins," Valancy said breezily, all at once.

"Valancy!" Amelia wailed, but Valancy paid no attention to her distraught mother.

The looks on the faces around the table made the agitated Mrs. Frederick want to leave. There was condemnation mixed with horror…yet if she left, there would be nobody to watch Valancy. Christine wouldn't take it up.

The worst seemed over, however; Valancy lapsed into a cheeky flippancy that, while unladylike, was not as rude as that comment about Isabel's chins. Yet the worst wasn't over. The talk eventually turned to the disreputable Barney Snaith, and when Uncle Wellington carelessly intimated that Snaith was the father of Cecily Gay's 'illegitimate' child, Valancy came completely away from all propriety and feminine tact.

""If you mean that Barney Snaith is the father of Cecily Gay's child," Valancy said shamelessly, "he isn't. It's a wicked lie."

There was silence, a palpable, horrified, scandalized silence, but no one was more humiliated than Amelia. Surely Valancy didn't know how…how children were…brought about. She wasn't supposed to know that. She shouldn't even think it!

Valancy defended Barney Snaith and Cecily Gay for a few more moments, and then, inexplicably, excused herself. Amelia Stirling let her go. Now there was nobody to say such shocking things. The only thing left to fear now was the uproar from her clan.

"She's feverish!" Christine declared, while Benjamin intoned, "She's dippy! Clean dippy!"

Only timid little Georgiana defended Valancy.

"Don't condemn her too rashly," she soothed, and, hoping a dose of philosophy might help, added, "we must remember what dear old Shakespeare says-that charity thinketh no evil."

"Charity! Poppy-cock!" snorted Uncle Benjamin. "I never heard a young woman talk such stuff in my life as she just did. Talking about things she ought to be ashamed to think of, much less mention!"

And he raged on for several more moments, making Amelia feel even weaker and paler than she already was. Everyone continued to chatter about Valancy's behavior, and she quickly gave up her pretense of bravery. She was crying.

"I must tell you," she sobbed, "that Valancy has been acting very strangely for over two weeks now. She hasn't been a bit like herself-Christine could tell you. I have hoped against hope that it was only one of her colds coming on. But it is-it must be something worse."

Amelia thought she was being quite clear that Valancy's horrifying new behavior was not the fault of Mrs. Amelia Frederick Stirling, but perhaps she'd made it worse; now Benjamin was hinting that this outrageous act came from Amelia's father's side of the family. That it was a Wansbarra trait.

Olive noticed Amelia's stressed expression and nervous mindset and set out to calm poor Aunt Amelia.

"Never mind, Aunt Amelia," she said sweetly. "Valancy isn't quite herself, but I'm sure she didn't mean it maliciously. Perhaps she's unhappy about something. We'll get Dr. Stalling over to talk to her."

Olive's words didn't seem to reach Amelia. Nor did they. As Olive spoke, her brown eyes soft below her glossy hair, her voice so sweet and modulated, Amelia wondered all the more why Valancy couldn't be at least a little more like Olive!

"It is part of my soul-suffering as a mother in the doomed human race," Amelia managed to philosophize.

A fic with this premise was originally titled 'My Daughter is an Old Maid' and written 'by' Amelia in first person, but it didn't work out-I'm bad at writing first person.