5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Margaret couldn’t help but stare for more than two minutes in the mirror. The Margaret she knew was gone as she beheld herself in a sparkling midnight-blue dress.
Her dark hair was pinned up, and the top layers were styled into finger waves—common among upper-class women but too fancy for Margaret’s taste.
But that wasn’t the centerpiece of the ensemble.
A dazzling headpiece wrapped around her forehead.
Gilded flowers and white diamond beads adorned the sides, while a striking blue feather extended to the side, its soft tips brushing against her ear. Who have I become?
Days ago, Margaret had arrived at Maplebrook to comfort her father as Grandfather passed, but instead, it had been three days, and she was attending her first social gathering.
But this event wasn’t an ordinary garden party or picnic like Margaret and her sisters were used to.
This was a ball, a room full of dancing and wealthy upper-class people whom Margaret didn’t belong with.
It was her world by lineage, but not by inheritance.
Mama and Daddy had left society for a reason, and now they had returned.
Now Margaret and her sisters would experience something they’d only read about.
Margaret’s stomach tightened with guilt as the unexpected excitement replaced the nervousness she had felt earlier.
Mama expressed her discomfort about them attending the ball, but for once, Margaret sided with Marjorie, curious and eager.
This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Margaret had read about balls in books and occasionally watched them in movies.
They were like windows to a new world, offering her and the other girls a glimpse into the fantasy they dreamed of.
But now that fantasy was coming to life.
Margaret touched the headpiece, feeling the smooth diamond edges. She felt unworthy of wearing something that didn’t belong to her. Grandmama had taken all three of them shopping and had insisted on the midnight-blue gown. “The color suits you and brings out your eyes,” she had said.
It was the perfect color. Margaret enjoyed wearing blush tones, but this deep hue was something different. It brought out another vision of herself, perhaps like Cinderella. She’d enjoy one night and return to her old ways afterward. However, Margaret would enjoy every moment of it while it lasted.
The dress was tighter, outlining the curves of her body and clinging to her figure in a way that highlighted every subtle shift and form.
The diamond earrings attached to her earlobes and the sequins on her dress created prisms on the bedroom wall as the lighting hit them.
Margaret shifted her eyes to Marjorie, who stood in the corner of the mirror’s reflection.
Her red dress beautifully accentuated her complexion, and her bobbed hair had transformed into a cascade of lively Marcel waves.
Margaret’s lips curved into a smile and she placed her hands on her hips. “What do you think?”
Marjorie grinned from ear to ear and took Margaret’s hands into her own. “You look just like a princess.”
Margaret sighed, turning back to the mirror.
This can’t be real. She was wearing an expensive gown and attending her first ball.
How exciting it was! For years, Margaret had read Jane Austen novels filled with extravagant events and lively music, and now this felt like a dream come true.
Margaret was sure her arms would have bruises from the amount of times she’d be pinching herself.
But the party guests were another story.
She wouldn’t know a fraction of them, and without her name, she was nothing.
Margaret placed her hand on her stomach as her breath quickened.
Marjorie held her finger up. “One moment.”
She pulled a box out of her dresser drawer on the other side of the room.
Her red heels clapped the tile floor as she hurried back.
She set the box on Margaret’s vanity, pulling out a pearl necklace.
Margaret watched as Marjorie wrapped the long necklace three times, shortening it. She held it before her.
“This will make you the jewel of the evening.”
Margaret’s mouth dropped. “No, I can’t.”
“I insist,” Marjorie insisted with a smile.
Margaret ran her finger over the smooth pearls, imagining what it’d be like to wear such a grand thing, especially knowing it had been passed down to Marjorie after Grandmother Martin passed away.
“I’ll look foolish.”
“Why so?” Marjorie asked.
Margaret looked into the mirror and ran her fingers over her dress straps, feeling the rough sequins. “We’re not them, Marjorie. Remember that.”
Marjorie placed her hands on Margaret’s bare shoulders. “I know. I’ve had to remind myself of that for the past three days, and it’s hard. But . . . this is our night. It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”
Margaret smiled, imagining dancing the night away to sweet symphonic music. “I assume so.”
Her sister giggled. “I knew you’d warm up to it.”
She placed the necklace over Margaret’s head, and Margaret’s fingers brushed the smooth beads as they rested against her chest. Marjorie was right. The pearls were an excellent touch. Margaret didn’t know how she’d survive the night without her stylish sister and her advice.
“This is exciting, isn’t it?” said Marjorie.
Margaret smiled. “I admit it is.”
Her sister’s eyes beamed as she squealed. “Imagine how many rich men will be there.”
“You overthink too much.”
Marjorie’s expression faded. “I’m serious, Margaret. You’ll be twenty-one in five weeks. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about marriage at least once.”
Margaret chewed her lower lip. Marjorie wasn’t wrong.
She had thought of marriage, but not nearly as much as Marjorie had.
Margaret thought of the joy of having a family like her parents did, but there hadn’t been a spark with any man she had met.
She attended Sweet Briar College, an all-women's university in Amherst County, for a year.
She and her friends met boys off campus, but she hadn't been attracted to any of them.
Margaret pushed away the thought. Those days were behind her.
The bedroom door opened, and in came Evie.
Her long blonde hair was styled up the same way Margaret’s was, but her dress was different, a deep emerald green—the only eye-catching element was the golden sequins around the sash.
Her headpiece wasn’t as extravagant as Margaret’s, but it served as Evie's focal point, black and gold with a green feather sprouting out the back. Evie peered at the ground, bashfully avoiding Margaret and Marjorie’s gazes.
Margaret wanted to comfort her sister and boost her confidence, just as hers had grown over the past hour. Margaret never knew how much dressing up could uplift a spirit. She took Evie’s hands in hers.
“Evie, you look breathtaking.”
Evie touched her reddened cheeks. “Thank you. I admit, I am a little nervous.”
“Don’t be,” Marjorie said, appearing behind Margaret.
Marjorie took both Margaret and Evie’s hands.
“There’s not anything that can come between us three.
We are stronger together, and we are going to have the most memorable night.
” Marjorie’s happy expression faded. “That is, until Grandfather passes.”
Margaret frowned. “It will be a tough time for Daddy. I understand they are getting along again for the first time in over two decades.”
Evie squeezed Margaret’s hand. “Daddy will get through this. I have all the confidence in him. He will have us and Mama. We’ve survived more difficult times than we can count. I have faith we will all overcome this, too.”
The three sisters smiled at one another with confidence—until Mrs. Danton appeared, her expression stern as always.
“Miss Nicholsons, you are expected in the ballroom. Your guests have arrived.”
Marjorie’s grin grew, and she squealed. “Who is ready for suitors, dancing, and champagne?”
Margaret thumped Marjorie’s bare shoulder. “No champagne. You know how Daddy feels about that.”
Marjorie rolled her eyes. “Oh phooey, I was just kidding. But maybe not entirely about the suitors.”
“Don’t be a flirt,” Evie reminded sternly.
The hallway echoed from Marjorie’s red heels as she walked away, huffing. “You two are no fun.”
When Margaret and her sisters entered the grand ballroom, they were immersed in a grand scene of elegance.
The ballroom was decorated with white and blue roses, ivy, and ribbons.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the soaring ceilings, warm light flickering across the polished wooden floors.
Margaret watched as couples waltzed gracefully across the floor.
The women’s dresses swayed to Ivanovici’s “Waves of the Danube” played by a live orchestra on the balcony above.
Marjorie sighed as she became lost in the ballroom’s grandeur. “Now this is what I call excitement.”
Before Margaret could remind Marjorie of her manners, the girl took off towards the punch fountain.
Her gown swayed as she gave each person a warm, friendly smile as she excused herself.
Marjorie wasn’t just stylish with her attire; she was stylish in every way possible—her posture, her appearance, the tone of her voice.
She was one in a million, one Margaret could hardly believe she was related to.
A kitchen maid poured a glass of punch, and Marjorie daintily took the glass in hand and turned towards Margaret and Evie. She raised the glass and shot them a wink.
“I assume there’s no use putting her on a leash,” Evie said.
Margaret giggled. “None at all. I sometimes pity the man she marries, for she’ll be quite the handful.”
The orchestra ended the waltz, and the dancers bowed and curtsied. Evie tapped Margaret’s arm. “What do you think?”
“I think the song was beautiful.”
Evie sighed, shaking her head. “No, I was referencing the dance floor. Are you planning to dance tonight?”