The Fallen Woman #4
“Here, hand me the flowers.” Her father reached for them. “I shall find a vase and place them in water for you, Margaret. You two go ahead and enjoy your evening.”
She kissed her father goodbye and, after putting on a cloak and gloves, led John outside.
“You look very fine this evening, Margaret. Is that not the dress you wore to the Mill Master’s Dinner?”
She smiled, pleased he remembered. “It is. Thank you.”
John helped her step into the carriage. Fanny sat on one side, Mr. Picard across from her. Margaret smiled at them both and sat beside Fanny. John sat next to Mr. Picard. John tapped on the ceiling with his walking stick, and the carriage pulled off.
“Miss Margaret Hale, please meet Monsieur Lucien Picard,” John said.
“Enchante, Monsieur Picard.” Margaret held out her hand, and he kissed her knuckles.
“Bienvenue a Milton. J’espere que vous apprereciez votre visite?
” She very much hoped he was enjoying his visit.
Fanny must choose Mr. Picard or Mr. Stewart for a husband.
Her choices were limited, and time was short.
No one knew for certain just how soon a baby might be born.
“Est-ce que tu parles Francais?” Picard asked if she spoke French.
“Oui!” she answered.
“Good, good,” Picard answered in English. “My English is a bit…rough, but I must try.” He grinned. “Miss Thornton does not speak French.”
Margaret glanced at Fanny who was staring out the window of the carriage, seemingly oblivious to the conversation. Was she pouting?
Margaret asked Picard, “Did you have a pleasant trip from Le Harve?”
“Yes,” he answered. “The train was late.”
“It happens all too often,” John said. “I wonder at the purpose of having time schedules if they fail to maintain them.”
Margaret grinned at John and nodded in agreement before turning to his sister. “Fanny, you look very pretty tonight.”
Fanny glanced at Margaret briefly but then looked back out the window without comment.
Margaret looked at John and raised a brow. He shook his head as if to suggest she not say anything else.
Instead, Margaret discreetly studied Picard, who was watching out the window as they rolled through the streets of Milton.
He was older, perhaps even forty years old.
He was not unattractive —indeed, he was quite well kempt—but there was nothing special in his appearance.
She glanced over at John. Why was he giving her such an intense look?
She smiled brightly at him and, with a nod, he turned his gaze back out the window.
How odd. The rest of the trip to the concert passed in uncomfortable silence. Her excitement began to dwindle.
What had Margaret gotten herself into?
The carriage pulled up directly in front of the door.
John stepped down, held out his hand to help his sister, and then did the same for Margaret.
Picard hopped out and straightened his waistcoat and shirt sleeves.
Margaret had to look away to hide her surprise.
The man was very short! Perhaps an inch or so taller than Margaret but not as tall as Fanny and significantly shorter than John.
Fanny led the way with Picard following behind, but John pulled Margaret back slightly.
He bent over and whispered, “Fanny did not want to come this evening. She said she does not wish to be seen in public anymore.”
“Oh, I see. She does appear rather out of sorts.”
He began walking. “She seems disappointed by Picard. What do you think of him?”
She looked up at him. “Think of him?”
“Aye. You were staring at him in the carriage. What do you think?”
She laughed. Was he jealous? “I think he is quite old,” she whispered, “and not nearly as handsome as the man I am now walking with.”
He grinned and straightened his shoulders as they entered the main door. Her words had pleased him, obviously. He handed their tickets to the man standing at the entrance and led them inside.
The building was full already, although not nearly as crowded as the concert halls and theaters in London.
Having walked by this hall many times, Margaret was excited to finally have an opportunity to see the inside, and it did not disappoint.
Margaret had not known what to expect but, for a hall located in an industrial town, the building was decorated very fashionably, in a classical way with murals on the walls and detailed moldings along the edges of the ceiling and circling the chandeliers.
“What do you think, Miss Hale?” John asked. “Do you approve?”
“It’s a very pretty place. I like it very well.”
“I hope the singer will appeal to you, as well. Braham is quite older than when I first heard him many years ago. His wife was a Milton girl; thus, he performed here often, even before this hall was built.”
Margaret continued to look at the pictures on the wall and covertly study the people in attendance. Fanny was not talking to Mr. Picard but was standing by him, and they both looked rather uncomfortable and awkward.
Margaret turned to take in the area behind her just as the Latimers entered the building.
Margaret had last seen Miss Ann Latimer walking with John shortly after Margaret had turned down his proposal.
Margaret thought for certain he had transferred his affection to the other girl, but here Margaret was, standing next to him, ready to enjoy her first musical in Milton by his side.
Fanny hastily walked away from Picard and disappeared down a darkened hallway. Picard went to follow her but caught Margaret’s eye and decided to come instead to where she and John stood. She tapped John’s arm and pointed discretely to where Fanny was walking away.
“What happened?” John asked Picard.
Mr. Picard shrugged. “We were talking of the paintings. The young woman there”—Picard nodded toward Ann Latimer—”came in, and Miss Thornton turned white and hurried down the hallway.”
John looked at Margaret.
“I shall go see if she is unwell,” she said.
She left the gentlemen, stepped around Miss Latimer, who tried to talk with her, and found Fanny sitting on a padded bench in the ladies’ room. Margaret sat next to her and handed her a handkerchief from the sleeve of her gown.
“What in the world is wrong?” Margaret asked.
Fanny was breathing quite heavily, as if she had been running. Margaret set her hand awkwardly on Fanny’s back and rubbed it in a circular motion. She hoped this might calm her but, of course, she had no idea what had spurred the girl’s sudden exit from the lobby.
“He’s here, Margaret. He’s here.” Fanny looked at Margaret with red, puffy eyes.
“Who is here?” she whispered.
Another woman walked in the room and stared at the two of them as she walked past to study herself in the mirror.
Fanny pointed to her stomach. “Him!”
Margaret’s eyes widened. “Oh! I see. Do you wish to leave?”
“I must.”
Margaret started to rise, but Fanny held her back. She leaned over so the woman still admiring herself in the mirror could not hear.
“I cannot leave while he is still out there. I have been crying, and I am certain I do not want him to see me looking as I do. I do not want him to know how upset he makes me. Not looking as I do.”
“Of course. Allow me to tell your brother.”
“Oh, and Margaret.” Fanny’s face twisted. “I find Mr. Picard rather disgusting. I cannot be away from him and his foul odor soon enough!”
Margaret moved from Fanny and followed the other woman out of the room, leaving Fanny alone. Margaret did not find Picard disgusting, nor had she noticed any offensive odor. Perhaps Fanny was simply being overly sensitive? She could hardly afford to be exceptionally particular about her choice.
Margaret found John and Mr. Picard just as the ushers were calling people to take their seats.
She crooked her finger so John might bend low enough for her to speak without being overheard.
Margaret was not certain which man Fanny was trying to avoid seeing, so she had no idea if he was lingering in the lobby or had already assumed his assigned seat.
“Fanny is ill, and we must go,” she whispered. “However, we must wait until the doors close for the performance.”
His face grew dark. “Are you certain?”
Margaret nodded.
“If we must.” His sigh was great. “I shall go flag the carriage, although he may have returned home already.”
John’s face remained stiff as stone as he stalked toward the door, leaving Margaret and Mr. Picard alone.
“Is it me? Do I offend the lady?” Picard asked in French, likely feeling more confident speaking his own language.
Margaret’s heart went out to the man. With a shake of her head she smiled. “I think this has nothing to do with you, sir,” she answered.
“That is good. I should feel offended if it were true.”
Margaret shook her head again. “It is not your fault.”
“Excuse me, sir.” One of the ushers came up to Mr. Picard. “Will you be coming inside? They are about to begin.”
Picard shook his head. “We will not.”
Margaret frowned her disappointment at the young man.
He nodded quickly and moved to close the final door.
Once she was certain there was no man lying in wait to pounce on Fanny, Margaret excused herself from Mr. Picard.
The orchestra had just begun and, as she went back to the ladies’ room to fetch Fanny, Margaret enjoyed the music.
Once inside, she said, “Your brother has gone for the carriage.” Her voice reflected her displeasure at missing the concert. “As you can hear, the music has begun, and no one remains in the foyer but Mr. Picard.”
“Thank goodness,” Fanny said. She sniffed a few times before standing and going in front of the mirror but, as she gazed at her reflection, she moaned. “I want to go home.”
This was not exactly how Margaret had expected the evening to end. She had been excited for the concert, excited to be with John and, as they waited at the main entrance for him to return for them, she could hear just how fine a concert she was missing.