Chapter 2
“Surely you do not mean it?”
Margaret’s friend, Miss Eleanor Whitcombe, pushed a dark curl behind her ear as she looked at her with wide blue eyes.
The four of them were at tea at Clara Henshaw’s home.
Clara was by the window, looking out across her garden rather than truly engaging, but Margaret knew that she was listening, too.
“I do. It has been a long time coming and you know it. I do not want to spend the rest of my life looking for something that is not there for me. I would much prefer to aid my sisters in their endeavors instead. I can make myself useful that way.”
“That does not sound like you,” Beatrice Lennox noted, her soft blonde hair tied loosely back. “Just last year, you were telling us that you wanted to marry well, so that you might secure your sisters’ future.”
“That was only an idea that I had, and I hardly considered it properly. I considered marrying for the sake of it, yes, but we all know that I could never truly do that. I shall either marry for love or I will not do so at all. It simply transpires that I will not be doing so.”
“I do not believe it for a moment,” Eleanor argued. “You may have many interests, Maggie, but running away to a convent is not one of them.”
“Who said that I would certainly choose the convent? I may decide to be a companion, for all we know. Such a life does, indeed, call to me.”
“It calls to you about as much as a life as a sailor does myself. You want to be loved, and there is no shame in that. Why can you not accept it?”
“Because it is not going to happen for me. I tried for three years, and I have nothing to show for it. Now that both of my sisters have entered society, our mother has more than enough to contend with. I do not need to make everything all the more difficult.”
“You are the one that does most of the work,” Beatrice pointed out.
“Yes, but when gentlemen see me as difficult, which they do, it affects my sisters’ prospects too.
Therefore, I have a choice. Either I marry the first gentleman that offers it and I live a life I do not want, or I do something on my own terms. You all know what my preference would be in that regard, yes? ”
Her friends quietened, but Margaret knew that they were not convinced.
She had never been a good liar, and it was not a skill that she would ever gain.
However, she was grateful that they did not push the matter, as it made everything easier to go through.
Had they insisted that she followed her heart, it would have destroyed her.
She returned home and stared at the gown hanging in her room.
It was pale gold and glittered in the sunlight, the one that she had prepared for her first event in society.
There was nothing that she wanted more than to shove it deep down into a box and have it sent away, but she remembered how her fingers ached altering it and she could not bring herself to do so.
She had too many pin pricks in her fingertips for it to have all been for nothing.
One last dance it was.
“But Mama!” she heard Emily whine from beneath her room. “Have you not considered that this will ruin my season?”
An eyebrow raised, Margaret crept to the hallway and listened out. She could see Emily pacing the hallway, her mother frantically trying to console her.
“Now is not the time,” she explained. “The Johnson Masquerade is quite improper, given that those invited can do as they please. It is not the right way for you and Poppy to begin your season.”
“And what of Margaret?”
“I– yes, Margaret too. It is not right, Emily.”
Margaret remained as still as she could.
That evening was to be a masquerade, and her mother had used that as an excuse for their absence.
It had been quick thinking on her part, but it hurt Margaret all the same to have already been perceived by her mother as unable to attend a single event.
She was already on the shelf and headed for the convent.
She turned back, the gown sparkling in such a way that it was almost mocking her. She sighed, lying on her bed on her back and looking up at the ceiling.
She could only do that for a few mere seconds, however, before her door flew open.
“She is cruel,” Emily thundered. “Can you imagine? She has spent our entire lives telling us how vital it is to make a good impression, and now she is preventing us from making any at all. Does she hate us?”
“Not at all, Sister. Come, now, you must understand her reasoning, surely?”
“No! If it were an improper event, then nobody would be in attendance at all. It is no excuse to keep us from going. Do you suppose she has other reasons?”
She did, of course.
“No, you know Mother. If she has a reason, she is not one to shy away from giving it to us. It may not be ideal, but it is how things must be and we have to trust her. She has more experience in society than the two of us.”
“Well, I do not think it is fair and neither will Poppy.”
“Does she not know?”
“Not yet. She shall be devastated to miss her first ball, and it is not as though Mother will be particularly kind about it. She will simply tell her that it is what must be done and refuse to hear anything more.”
She was astute, Margaret had to admit that much. All that Emily was missing was who their mother truly was treating that way. Suddenly, an idea occurred to her.
“Then we will tell Poppy ourselves,” Margaret suggested. “In fact, let me take the blame.”
“But that is not fair, either!”
“There is not a lot about the world that is. Now, either we have our sister angry with our mother, or we have her be understanding of a predicament. Have her told that I am unwell, and that we shall be foregoing tonight’s festivities so as not to explain my condition to every person there.”
“But you are not unwell.”
“I am an excellent actress, I shall have you know. Besides, I can conceal myself in my room and she shall be none the wiser. I will speak with Mother while you ensure word spreads. Can you do that for me? For Poppy?”
Emily sat quietly for a moment as she considered it. She had such a strong sense of justice that Margaret half expected her to refuse, but after a moment she nodded her head slowly.
“I suppose it is better this way. If we are all angry with Mother, she will be less likely to let us attend the next ball. I do not know how you do this so easily, Maggie. You are so…”
She did not finish her sentence, and simply left the room without another word. Margaret wondered just what her sister thought of her. To Emily, was she a brave older sister that was happy to make sacrifices, or was she a weak little girl that did not want to have conflict at any cost to herself?
She hardly knew the truth herself.
She found her mother in the drawing room, darning a sock, and entered, closing the door firmly behind her. The plan had already formed in her mind, though she was not certain that she could go through with it.
“This is for your sake,” she began. “We are going to tell Poppy that I am unwell.”
“Margaret, I do not need your interference.”
“If you do not want your other daughters to be made aware of our situation, you most certainly do need me. Emily was prepared to tell Poppy that you have put an end to this evening out of cruelty. I have managed to explain it away, but we wish to keep Poppy out of it. You know that she thinks more than you need her to.”
Her mother truly did consider that for a moment.
It was infuriating for her to say that she did not need Margaret, for she always had.
Margaret had saved her more times than she could recall, and she had had to be a mother in her place for much of her life, but she had never been allowed any of the privileges that accompanied such a task.
“I do not need your judgment,” her mother huffed. “I am well aware of my failures, and how I cannot allow your sisters to see them. When you are a mother, you will understand that–”
Margaret bristled. Her mother faltered for a moment, aware that because of her decision Margaret would never be a mother, and then cleared her throat.
“Very well,” she said, her gaze dropping to the floor. “We shall claim that you have suddenly taken ill. You will stay in your room, and I shall entertain your sisters myself.”
“Thank you. I do not want you to think that I am taking your place. I am only asking that you trust me to make the right decisions.”
“And I do. After what you have promised me that you will do for our family, I know that I can trust you. I know that I have not always been fair to you, Margaret, but you must know that I have always seen greatness in you. It may not be shown as it is in other ladies, but it will come from you one day.”
It was rare for her mother to compliment her as she had. It had always felt as though she was not quite good enough, and so for her to acknowledge that Margaret was trying meant the world to her.
And it made the knowledge that she was going to betray them all cause her to feel even worse.
The sun had set, and she had heard her family tell Poppy that they would not attend the ball that evening, and that it was because her dear sister had taken ill.
Poppy did not protest, and Margaret wondered if that was because she was yet to consider anything further.
“Is it bad?” she simply asked.
“It could be worse,” her mother explained, “but we do not want to take any risks. Not only that, but it could be catching, and we would hate for you or Emily to have it too. It is best that you leave her be for the evening, and see how she is in the morning.”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Good.”
The matter was settled as soon as it began, and though Margaret was grateful that she would not be caught, she wished that it were not so easy to fool her family. It was for precisely that reason that they needed her home, rather than in a convent, but that was not her decision to make.
Still, the gown shimmered, and Margaret could not stop looking at it.
And so, when she heard her family retire to their bedchambers, she leaped from her bed and wrestled with her dress until it fell to the floor, and in its place she swept the golden one onto her body.
She had been dressing herself for over a year, and so she did it with ease.
Then, she pinned her hair into place and applied her rouge, then covered her face with a gold mask.
She was going to give up her life for her sisters, but that did not mean that she could not have one last dance.