Chapter 24 Margot
24
Margot
The glass balcony doors slam behind Yael, the noise shaking Margot to her core. She crumples the letter in her hand, wanting to scream, to weep, to throw the hated piece of paper away, or, most especially, to get up and run after Yael.
She does none of those things.
Instead, she sits beneath the jasmine, knees pulled to her chest as much as her corset will allow, and weeps as the sounds of the party grow louder. Laughter, music, the clinking of crystal glasses together, the hum of elegant voices: It all sounds tawdry and terrible. Perhaps Yael has joined their family in the ballroom already, and is down there now, laughing along with beautiful people, every inch the Clauneck heir.
Or perhaps they’ve found their own corner of the manor to cry in.
The thought makes Margot sob, but she forces herself to shove the thought aside. She can’t afford sympathy for Yael, not with what she must do next. Also, some small part of her still can’t believe they’ve walked away from her.
“It’s for the best,” she murmurs to herself, the words punctuated with sniffles as she remembers Yael’s cruel words.
“You never wanted me. You wanted a Clauneck.”
Why had they said that? It certainly wasn’t true, and she never meant to use Yael or lie to them. She only wanted—What?
To save her town. To change her own life. To prove that she did have as much to offer as Granny Fern. To keep hold of a small measure of happiness of her own with someone she adored.
It was always too much to hope for. And now she must make her way through the world alone again.
With a shaking breath, Margot stands. She brushes petals from her skirt, straightens her hair, and wipes at her eyes. She casts one more glance over the balcony railing at the guests gathered below—Yael isn’t among them—and then she flees down endless hallways of the Clauneck manor.
Eventually, she stumbles into the shadowy gardens, ignoring the gasps from startled guests doing secretive things in the shrubbery as she runs across the lawn in her ridiculous heeled shoes. After a few mistaken turns, she makes it to the long row of stables at the back of the Clauneck property.
The stable door is open, and golden lantern light and laughter spill out from the building, illuminating a trio of coach drivers and several stable hands sitting on bales of hay and playing cards. Margot leans against the doorframe, gulping in the warm rich scents of hay, horses and other beasts, and manure. A memory of her and Yael and a few others of their childhood pack sneaking out of the manor and to the stables comes to her unbidden, and she can almost feel Yael’s fingers threaded through hers, as they were back then.
A sob breaks out of her, and she quickly holds up a hand to smother it. The coach drivers and stable hands look up, and she removes the hand from her mouth, using it to smooth her hair. She can only imagine what her braids and makeup look like right now.
“Are you quite all right, miss?” a white-haired coach driver in crimson livery asks as they stand to greet her.
Margot starts to speak, instead letting loose another hiccuping sob. She tries to get herself under control. “Perhaps some water?” she manages.
“Only water here is for the horses and other creatures,” the driver says. “But we have firewhiskey.” They pull a dented metal flask from their hip pocket.
“That will do perfectly.” Margot takes the offered flask and tips it back. As its name promises, the firewhiskey burns on its way to her belly, but she doesn’t mind. Focusing on that pain is much preferable to thinking about losing Yael and everything the two of them might’ve had together.
“We can deal you in if you’d like, miss?” the coachperson asks, gesturing to the card game. “Wouldn’t be the first time a fine-feathered guest has snuck away from the party for the stables.”
Margot isn’t sure if they’re referring to Yael’s flight from the Clauneck Manor all those months ago, or to something else, but it doesn’t matter. “Could you please just take me back into the city, to the Glowing Coin Inn by the Golden Court?”
“Sorry, can’t do that. I’m driving for the Oreborn family tonight. We can hardly have them wanting to leave the party and their coach not here.”
Margot spares a brief thought for how much Yael might enjoy the idea of her stealing the Oreborn coach, then remembers she can’t tell them anything now.
“Please,” Margot implores the driver. “My hired coach…fell through…and I have to get back to the inn immediately. I can’t stay here a moment longer.”
“Are you in some kind of trouble?” the coachperson asks gently.
“Only the kind I’ve caused myself,” she murmurs. “I can pay you.”
It’s then that she remembers her purse is back at the inn; Yael told her she wouldn’t need any money of her own tonight, because she was with them. Another sob claws its way up Margot’s throat, but she swallows it down with more firewhiskey.
“I have money in my room,” she amends.
The coachperson shakes their head. “Sorry, love. Not worth the risk of losing this job.”
Frustrated, her fingers trace the hard studding of the jewels sewn into her dress, sparkling emeralds and shining pearls—Clauneck wealth pressed upon her body.
“What about some of these jewels?” she offers. “Would that make the risk worth your while?” Without a thought for her dress, Margot rips a handful of stones from the fabric, placing them in the driver’s hand.
The driver’s white eyebrows shoot upward. “Those would do nicely indeed.”