10. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
“What do you think?” Margaret asked her sisters, turning away from the mirror.
Her white blouse was neatly tucked into her navy skirt, and a long navy coat draped over her shoulders.
For the first time in a while, she wore heels, which added four inches to her height.
Her hair was pulled back, topped with a black cloche hat adorned with a navy ribbon.
She looked every bit the part of a professional—poised, confident, the very image of a modern feminist career woman.
While Evie squealed with delight, Marjorie seemed dissatisfied, her head shaking subtly in disapproval.
“It needs to be a little . . . classier.”
Margaret’s smile faded. She adjusted her collar.
“I don’t see anything distasteful about it. It seems pleasing to me,” Evie insisted.
Marjorie sighed and turned Margaret towards the mirror. She pointed down at Margaret’s skirt. “Your skirt is too long. If you shorten it just slightly above the knee, you’d be a picture of modernist perfection.”
Margaret shook her head. Why wasn’t she surprised?
Of course, anything she wore wouldn’t please Marjorie.
She had approved Margaret’s ballgown but still took liberties with giving her a pearl necklace for improvements.
The seventeen-year-old was passionate about fashion and critiqued everything to her approval.
“It’s called professionalism, Marjorie,” Margaret said, smoothing out the slight wrinkles in her blouse. “The workplace isn’t a weekend in Paris.”
“Suit yourself,” Marjorie said, fluffing her hair as she looked in the mirror. “But I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing something so plain. At my future job, I will wear sparkles and diamonds.”
“And where would that be?” Evie asked.
“I plan to go to Broadway in New York. I’m going to be a dancer.”
“Daddy would lock you away if you ever thought of doing that,” Evie warned.
“He’ll get over it.”
Margaret walked away from the mirror and grabbed her briefcase.
She had been nervous all morning, and having her sisters there for moral support distracted her from what she’d face.
She wasn’t nervous about becoming a career woman; she was nervous about how Mr. McKinley would see her.
Though she appeared professional, it didn’t mean she’d be good enough for the job.
She longed to impress the man, hoping he would see beyond her status as the inexperienced granddaughter of his former boss.
Proving herself to him would also mean proving to herself that she was more than just plain Margaret.
Even though she despised everything about Richmond, she’d be there for a while.
She had never journeyed far, and this would be the solution to finding her purpose outside of her comfortable confinement.
Then it would be time for Grandmama to marry her off.
“How do you feel about being the first woman in the family to have a career?” Evie asked.
“I won’t lie,” Margaret said, scratching her forearms. “I am nervous.”
“Why should you be? You’re doing something wonderful!” Marjorie expressed.
Margaret closed her eyes and sighed, “It’s not that. It’s who I must impress. If I want to be respected as a woman and worker, I must prove to him that I am capable and strong enough for any challenge.”
Evie’s eyebrows raised. “Who do you have to impress? Daddy won’t fire you on your first day. He knows this is your first job.”
“It’s not Daddy I’m worried about,” Margaret said, chewing the inside of her cheek. “It’s his accountant. He was bitter with me yesterday and sees me as underqualified and a pest. I want to prove him wrong. But—”
“Stop,” Marjorie interrupted. She placed her hands on Margaret’s shoulders and smiled.
“Just because a man has a bad attitude doesn’t mean you are underqualified.
He doesn’t have the authority to tell you what you can and cannot do.
We believe in you, and Daddy does too. That should be enough, right? ”
Margaret nodded, but she didn’t agree. The support from her sisters should be enough, but it wasn’t.
Now that they believed in her, she had more pressure not to fail.
How much more did she have to prove to feel worthy?
She already had the responsibility of finding a husband.
She couldn’t let her sisters down, at least not yet.
Marjorie linked arms with Margaret on her right, and Evie did the same on her left.
Having her sisters here took Margaret out of her panicky thoughts.
She sucked in a deep breath and exhaled.
“Now,” said Marjorie, patting Margaret’s arm. “Let’s prove this cruel man wrong!”
The girls descended the staircase and strode through the hallway to the parlor. As soon as they entered, Grandmama greeted them with her familiar, mischievous smile, the kind she wore when she was up to something.
“Girls, how nice to see you this morning. Do come in. I have two gentlemen I’d like you to meet.”
Margaret’s pulse quickened, and her cheeks blazed.
Of course, Grandmama was using her matchmaking skills, just as she promised.
However, so soon and at seven in the morning was not Margaret’s schedule.
She had spent the last hours stressing over work and hardly dwelling on Grandmama’s husband-hunting plan.
Margaret looked down at her clothes. Perhaps Marjorie was right.
Maybe she should have worn something with a little more class.
Grandmama led them into the parlor where two gentlemen sat waiting. Margaret couldn’t see their faces, but from the back of their heads, she could tell one man was much older, given that most of his hair was gray. Margaret inwardly sighed. Can Grandmama not find any younger men?
“Granddaughters, I’d like you to meet our lawyer, Mr. Baldwin, and his nephew, Lord Burton, the Marquess of Sumberton.”
Both men stood and turned to face Margaret and her sisters.
Then Margaret’s heart stopped beating. She caught herself before her breath hitched.
Before her eyes was the man she believed she would never see again—Eugene Ashcroft.
His dazzling blue eyes locked with hers, making her gulp.
For a moment, she almost forgot to curtsey.
“A pleasure to meet you, Lord Burton,” Marjorie said with batting eyelashes. “And you as well, Mr. Baldwin.”
Margaret’s heart hammered against her chest, constricting her lungs that were running out of air.
The room grew hot, making her dizzy. Was everything Eugene told her a lie?
Who was this Lord Burton, and how come she wasn't informed of him?
He was a relation to their lawyer, but Eugene had claimed he had no acquaintance with her family.
Nothing made sense. Her ears throbbed, each pulse blaring.
She placed one hand over the other to steady her shaking.
“Lord Burton,” Grandmama said. She placed her hand on Margaret’s shoulder. “This is my Margaret. She’s the one I have been telling you about.”
Eugene’s lips curved into a smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Nicholson.”
Margaret smiled awkwardly, gritting her teeth. “The pleasure is mine, sir . . . I mean . . . my lord.”
Eugene chuckled. “There’s no harm done. You may address me in any way you please.”
His lips parted into a broader grin—the same lips that had kissed Margaret’s on the balcony.
Her face burned, thinking about that moment.
The entire time she had been in the arms of a marquess.
An aristocrat! What was she thinking, being alone with him and kissing him?
Oh, what must he think of her now? Margaret bit her lip hard. A loose American girl? Heaven forbid!
“I apologize that you had to come so early, Lord Burton. I’m afraid this is the only time my granddaughter can have company,” Grandmama explained.
“You see, she is an aspiring career woman now. But I don’t see why she must do such a thing.
Her mother poisoned her mind with the suffragette cause.
Perhaps you could talk some better sense into her. ”
Margaret wanted to roll her eyes. First Grandmama had to pick on Mama for being a suffragette and now her for wanting a career.
She could never see why Grandmama would be against such things.
Times were changing, and so were women’s rights.
What woman wouldn’t want freedom? And Lord Burton was here, listening to Grandmama’s reprimands.
He probably thought less of her now, or had he ever thought highly of her?
“Truth be told, I am quite fascinated by the women who aspire to start careers,” Eugene said.
Margaret’s eyes widened. What? “You see, I do not see a lot of progression where I am from, and coming here has opened my eyes to the good. I do hope one day England could follow in your American ways and allow our women the right to vote.”
Margaret’s pulse quickened. Had Eugene stood up for her and all women? Who was this man? She had imagined him to be an upper-class snob, putting women in their place and seeing them as inferior, but here he was praising them.
Grandmama’s lips parted slightly as her complexion faded. She cleared her throat and put on another smile. “Well, perhaps so, but I prefer times not to change. You may call me old-fashioned, but I like to remain in the better days where women kept the home and the men provided.”
“Miss Nicholson,” Mr. Baldwin said, his eyes locked with hers. “I am very certain your grandfather would be proud.” He ended his last sentence with a wink.
“I dearly hope so,” Margaret said, her cheeks flushing.
Grandmama stepped away from the gentleman and brought her arm around Margaret’s shoulders.
She leaned into her, smiling in the men’s direction.
“Margaret, would you care to show Lord Burton our riverwalk?” Grandmama asked in a proper voice.
“Lord Burton, I understand it is early, but the weather will be much warmer in the later hours. I know you have dearly looked forward to seeing more of our estate.”