4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Walking along the riverwalk, the cool breeze teased loose strands from Margaret’s bun, calming her after the day’s chaos.
Maplebrook was extravagant and entertaining, but it was nothing like Ivy Hill; it almost seemed.
. . empty. All those rooms, hallways, and passageways wasted time and materials.
Whatever happened to simplicity being just as beautiful?
As she closed her eyes, Margaret vividly recollected her first day at Ivy Hill after moving from her family’s tiny apartment in Richmond.
She frequently became lost within the labyrinthine corridors, and without fail, her father would always come to her rescue.
He would wrap his long arms around her and comfort her as her tears stained his shoulder.
“There, there, Blossom. Don’t be afraid. Daddy is here.”
“I don’t like it here, Daddy. I want to go somewhere else,” Margaret whined.
His smile faded as he rubbed her back. “This is our home now. Your grandmother is here, and she’s been wanting to see you.”
Margaret shook her head. “No, no. I don’t like it here. It’s too big and frightening.”
Daddy stood from the tile floor and gripped Margaret’s hand. “Come on, Blossom. I have something to show you.”
Margaret opened her eyes after reminiscing over the memory.
Her father had taken her hand, leading her through the woods and into the meadow where the family enjoyed having picnics.
Mama had always told stories about it and its magic, and Margaret had never been so calm then.
When she beheld it for the first time—savoring the sweet scents of flowers, touching the soft green grass, hearing the gentle hum of bumblebees and the chirping birds soaring above, and feeling the soft whistle of the breeze—she welcomed an unfamiliar sense of belonging, as if this were the very place she was meant to be.
It took her a while to accept Charlottesville as her home, but the meadow was what she accepted first.
Marjorie’s dramatic huff pulled Margaret from her thoughts, transporting her back to the elitist world of Maplebrook, where everything seemed like a show.
“I understand this place is beautiful, but when can we have some fun?” Marjorie folded her arms over her body as she kicked rocks into the river.
“You can ask your father tomorrow. Right now, he needs time with your grandfather,” Mama answered.
“Can we at least go dancing before we head home?” Marjorie asked, bright-eyed.
“Perhaps another day. Remember what we are here for.”
Marjorie groaned, leaning her head back. “I’m bored out of my mind. This agony makes me want to scream!”
“Marjorie!” Evie snapped. “Your behavior is inappropriate for this trying time.”
“Evie, calm yourself,” Mama said gently.
She stopped walking and huddled Margaret and her sisters into a circle.
“I must speak to you three. I know this is a difficult and awkward trip, but I must ask you girls to look out for each other. Evie and Margaret, you are responsible for Marjorie.” Mama locked her eyes on Marjorie.
“Marjorie, you are not to go anywhere without them. I won’t have you wandering off like you do in Charlottesville, especially to clubs. ”
Marjorie sighed, her shoulders slouching forward. “Yes, Mama.”
Mama turned to Margaret. “Margaret, keep an eye on your sister.”
Margaret nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” But she couldn’t make any promises. Marjorie was like a headless chicken, impossible to catch. She was so unpredictable that it would be a miracle to keep her on a leash.
As the four women continued down the riverwalk, a voice interrupted them. They turned to see a lanky man in a khaki suit running towards them.
“Mrs. Nicholson!” He stopped before them, clearing his throat as he caught his breath.
His eyes appeared as though they’d pop out of his spectacles.
The man removed his hat and combed his slick black hair with his fingers.
“I must introduce myself.” He paused for a gulp of air.
“I am Mr. Nicholson’s estate manager, Sidney Agnes. ”
The four women curtsied, and Mama reached to shake his hand afterward. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Agnes.”
Mr. Agnes didn’t seem much older than Margaret, but his spectacles made him appear more mature and sophisticated.
He towered over her at least a foot and a quarter, and his shoulder pads broadened his shoulders, but his arms were skinny, practically swallowed by the sleeves.
He was seemingly awkward with his slouching posture and how he carried himself as though he was paranoid, watching over his shoulder and avoiding eye contact.
He wasn’t handsome, but he wasn’t too awful-looking.
“Pardon my intrusion, but your husband, the other Mr. Nicholson, has asked me to inform you that the . . . head Mr. Nicholson would like to see you and his granddaughters.”
Margaret’s chest heaved as her heart hammered against her ribcage. It was her father’s duty to meet with her grandfather, not her and her sisters. Surely Daddy didn’t mean for them to come. There had to be a mistake. Whoever this Mr. Agnes was, he was a product of a cruel joke.
Mama’s lips curved into a soft smile. “Come on, girls. It’s time to meet your grandfather.”
“I’ll lead the way,” Mr. Agnes said, pushing his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose.
As the women followed Grandfather’s estate manager, Evie leaned in close to Mama. “Do we have to go?” she whispered.
Mama pulled her arm around Evie. “I understand this is quite discomforting, but we all must face our fears every once in a while. How will you overcome them if you don’t?”
Margaret listened to her mother’s speech, but it wasn’t the first time she had heard it.
Mama was good at making speeches. She traveled all over Virginia with Faith Morgan and Mary Elizabeth Pidgeon in the Equal Suffrage League, but Margaret could never figure out how to face her own fears.
She had many, and each time she came close to facing them, flashbacks filled her head.
Avoiding her fears kept those nightmares away as though they never existed.
At last, the women arrived at Grandfather’s bedchamber. Margaret took deep breaths to settle her nerves, but she wasn’t near as nervous as Evie. Beads of sweat formed on her glistening forehead as her pupils dilated. Her quivering legs were prominently visible beneath her skirt.
Marjorie, however, was hard to read. She was good at acting, so who knew if she was fooling anyone beneath her thick makeup?
Marjorie smiled, and her posture was straight.
She ran her fingers through her short black hair.
Her lips, unsurprisingly, were a deeper shade than minutes earlier with a new coat of lipstick.
Margaret wrapped her fingers around Evie’s cold hand.
The door opened, and Margaret and her sisters entered.
Mama stayed behind them. The room was dark, the only light being a candle on the nightstand, its tiny flicker casting a glimmer on the brass headboard of the large bed.
A window in the corner was covered by a thick, velvety curtain.
Margaret and her sisters stepped closer to the bed.
Before long, their father’s silhouette emerged into view.
He rose from his chair, welcoming them with a warm smile.
Margaret turned her head, noting the ghastly shape of her grandfather.
A corpse seemed to lie in the bed rather than a living man.
Grandfather moaned as he sat up, then froze when their eyes met.
His pale lips parted, and his eyes glistened with moisture.
Daddy cleared his throat. “Father, I’d like you to meet your granddaughters; Margaret, Evangeline, and Marjorie.”
Grandfather stared, leaving a lingering silence in the drafty room. Evie’s grip tightened around Margaret’s hand.
“I-I cannot believe this,” Grandfather whispered. “My own granddaughters . . . Come closer, my dears. This lighting is too dark for me to see.”
Margaret and her sisters obeyed. The room brightened as Mama cracked open the curtains. Grandfather's heavy breathing was the only sound in the room for a long moment as he kept his eyes fixed on them. The clock on the wall ticked as each second of silence passed by.
“You all are so beautiful.” Grandfather faced Mama then back to Daddy. “You did a good job raising them.”
The door behind them closed, moving everyone’s gaze back. Grandmama entered and walked towards Grandfather’s bedside. She sat beside him and took his hand in hers. Grandfather patted it and faced Margaret and her sisters again.
“I regret I didn’t see you three grow up, but you have developed into fine young women.”
A smile etched across Grandmama’s face. “Don’t forget the marvelous beauty they possess. Men would be lining up for their hands in marriage if they were in society.”
Grandfather opened his mouth to speak but froze. He widened his eyes and looked back at Grandmama. “A ball,” he muttered.
Daddy touched Grandfather’s bony shoulder. “What is it, Father?”
Grandfather’s eyes locked with Margaret’s, making her stomach churn. “We will host a ball in their honor.”
“What?” Daddy’s mouth parted in shock. “You’re unwell, Father.”
Grandfather shook his head. “No, not for me. For your daughters. I’m sure they are bored out of their minds, waiting for me to die.” Grandfather winked at Marjorie.
“We want you to focus on getting well, sir,” Mama said. “These girls can enjoy themselves on the premises.”
“Nonsense,” Grandfather protested. He faced Grandmama and patted her leg. “Get the guest list ready, my dear. We have a lot of planning to do for Saturday.”
“Saturday?” Marjorie repeated. “That is much too soon.”
Grandfather chuckled. “My dear, you have a lot to learn. Last-minute parties are the grandest.”