Chapter 16
The carriage smelled faintly of damp silk and crushed grass.
Margaret settled into the corner seat, lifting her hem slightly to keep it from the pooled rainwater near the door. The garden party had resumed with determined brightness after the storm, but the traces of the downpour remained.
Emily sat opposite her. She had been quieter than usual since they left Halworth House.
“You vanished,” Emily said at last, staring at the blurred street beyond the window.
“Only for a moment,” Margaret replied. “It began to pour.”
“I noticed, strangely enough. I was also present.”
Margaret studied her sister more closely.
“You sound displeased.”
“I am thinking.”
“That is rarely a cheerful occupation.”
Emily did not smile. She was not always pleased by a more joyous demeanor, but Margaret could sense that something was wrong.
“I saw you,” she said. “Under the oak.”
“Yes. It was raining, and so we took shelter there.”
“You were not merely avoiding the rain.”
Margaret felt warmth rise again at the memory– his hand at her chin, the nearness, the pause that had almost tipped into something irreversible. Then she came back to the carriage, to the accusation that her sister had made. She did not like the tone that Emily had taken at all.
“I was,” she protested, but she knew it was a lie.
Emily hesitated, glancing at their mother. Lady Fairfield was practically overjoyed with how the day had been, for Margaret had exceeded expectations just as she had planned to, and Emily clearly knew not to ruin that.
“You are beginning to forget how this looks.”
“How what looks?”
“Yourself and the Duke.”
“It looked respectable,” Margaret replied calmly. “And yet, there was a romance to it that I will not deny. That was the point. It was very deliberate, I can assure you.”
Margaret watched her carefully, for she did not respond.
Nobody said anything, and her entire family simply remained sitting together in silence for a moment.
Poppy was pleased enough, but she always was.
Emily, on the other hand, was more content to look at a window that had no visibility due to condensation than to look in her direction.
It was the sort of thing that would have warranted shame, if she regretted what she had done at all.
“Something happened,” Margaret said. “I can tell. What is it?”
Emily’s jaw tightened.
“Nothing,” she replied too quickly.
Margaret waited. After a moment, Emily exhaled.
“Lady Norwood asked me how long we expect the Duke’s interest to last.”
Margaret stilled.
“And what did you say?”
“I said that the two of you are content in your match, and that we will see how it progresses. I did not know what else to say.”
“That was perfect. Do not worry about that.”
“But I must. We must consider it all now, Margaret.”
The carriage wheels struck a rut in the road, and both sisters shifted with the movement. Margaret kept her voice steady.
“Lady Norwood is unkind, and that leads to many people not caring what she has to say. I would not be too hurt by her words.”
“She has daughters, Margaret, and they are my age.”
Margaret absorbed that quietly. With how their circumstances had been, her sisters were already at a disadvantage, and she would not help matters by inviting scandal.
“They believe you are fortunate,” Emily continued. “They say that your match was unexpected.”
“That is not inaccurate.”
“They believe we are fortunate.”
Margaret met her gaze.
“We are. Many families would like to be in our position. It is not cruel to say such a thing aloud.”
Which meant that it had to be something else. Emily’s expression flickered, and Margaret wished that she understood it.
“You stood beneath that tree as though you belonged there,” she said.
“I did.”
Emily leaned forward slightly.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation, but her sister was unconvinced. Emily’s eyes searched her face in silence, and then she looked away again. Margaret decided that, whatever the problem was, it had to be bad, for her sister had never been one to hide her thoughts on a matter.
“Margaret?” she asked as they neared their home.
“Yes?”
“Remember your place.”
The words landed harder than Margaret expected.
“My place?” she repeated.
“Yes.”
“And where is that?”
“You know where.”
“I do not, so you ought to tell me.”
“Very well. You are not in a position to invite scrutiny. You never have been.”
“I am on the arm of a duke, Emily. I shall not be scrutinized like before.”
“Margaret, you need to think clearly. You may be on a duke’s arm, but you are not a duchess yet. You may never be one either, and any damage that you cause while you believe otherwise will affect us. You need to remember that.”
“I am aware.”
“Then do not behave as though you are secure.”
“I am secure.”
“How so? You do not have a proposal, nor a wedding band on your finger.”
“I have his word.”
“And if you believe a man at his word, then you are a fool.”
Margaret felt the sting of that more than she expected. She looked out of the window briefly, gathering herself.
“He is already taking… liberties with you. You may think it is a thrill now, but if he falters, you will not be the only one affected. He is a man, so he can run from the trouble he causes. You can not. We can not.”
“I know. I understand.”
“Do you?”
Silence filled the carriage. The rhythm of the wheels steadied as they approached their household’s entrance.
The carriage came to a stop, and Margaret stepped down first. The air had cooled since the rain. She did not look back at the carriage as she entered the house, but Emily’s words lingered. She had to remember her place.
Margaret paused in the hallway, determined to speak with her sister in private, but Emily did not wait. She moved straight toward the staircase, her back rigid, gloves still damp in her hand.
“Emily,” she called.
There was no answer. Margaret handed her shawl to the maid without looking away from her sister’s retreating figure.
“Emily.”
This time her voice carried. Emily paused halfway up the stairs but did not turn.
“What happened?” Margaret asked.
“Nothing.”
“That is untrue.”
When no answer came once again, Margaret climbed after her. They reached the landing at the same moment, and Emily moved toward her room, but Margaret caught her wrist gently before she could disappear inside.
“Tell me.”
Emily pulled free, not violently, but with purpose.
“Do you honestly wish to know?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Emily turned fully now, composure cracking at the edges.
“They were discussing Papa.”
Margaret stilled.
“In what way?”
“In the way people do when they believe a rise in fortune must be explained.”
Margaret’s throat tightened. All at once, she understood why her sister was so angry. Emily had always been protective of their family, but especially their father. She did not know of his shortcomings, and so he was her hero in a way that Margaret simply could not see him as.
“Lady Norwood said it was remarkable how quickly certain families recover from mismanagement.”
“That is cruel. You should not have listened to it.”
“Everyone else did.”
“Yes, and they know nothing of Papa’s decisions.”
“They know enough to enjoy ridiculing them. They say the Duke is generous, that he is correcting our decline.”
There was a silence for a moment, and then Emily laughed coldly.
“They say you are fortunate,” she repeated.
“I am,” Margaret said quietly.
“Yes. You are.”
The emphasis shifted the meaning entirely. Margaret’s breath slowed, and she wished that she knew what to say to her.
“Emily–”
“You will leave,” Emily said, the words coming faster now. “You will step into Ravensmere House and be his duchess and no one will dare repeat those things to your face.”
“That is not why I–”
“They will repeat them to us.”
The words landed hard. Margaret did not interrupt, for it was the best that she could do. Emily deserved time to be angry and confused about everything that had happened, even if she did not think it was fair.
“We will remain here,” Emily continued. “We will continue as though nothing has happened, and smile while they speculate how much assistance was required.”
“I will still be here. I am not abandoning you.”
“It will feel like that.”
The honesty of it cut deeper than accusation would have.
“I am doing this for us,” Margaret said.
“Yes,” Emily replied. “You are.”
But there was no gratitude in it.
“Do you think I do not hear them too? I may not have today, but I do know that they are unkind about us. I am not immune to it.”
“No, but you hear them beside a Duke.”
“I hear them as your sister.”
“You stood beneath that tree as though none of it could touch you.”
“For a moment,” Margaret admitted, “it did feel like that, but I know that it does.”
“And what of the rest of us?” Emily asked quietly. “We cannot stand beneath trees every time it rains.”
Margaret felt the truth of that and did not deny it.
“They will not soften for me,” Emily said. “Or for Poppy. We will remain the family who required rescue.”
“No one rescued us.”
“No?”
“No.”
“He is powerful. He is wealthy. He has placed gowns on our backs. I want you to be happy, Margaret, but I cannot be utterly overjoyed about it at all times, no matter how much you might want me to be.”
“I am not asking that of you. I know that it may seem like too much too soon, but it is necessary.”
“But I do not like it.”
“Why not?”
Margaret wished to be patient, but she had grown exasperated. She had done everything that she could, and she was continuing to make sacrifices for their family, and she hated that her sister could not see that.
“Because I do not know where that leaves us.”
There it was. It was not jealousy, but fear. Margaret felt something in her chest shift painfully.
“You will not be left,” she said.
“That is easy to promise.”
“I do not promise lightly. Emily, I cannot undo the past, but I can alter the future.”
“For whom?”
“For you,” Margaret said firmly. “For Poppy. For this house.”
Emily’s expression wavered. Silence fell again, and her sister looked exhausted now rather than angry.
“I do not begrudge you happiness,” she said at last. “I begrudge the distance it creates.”
Margaret stepped forward and took her sister’s hands before she could withdraw.
“There will be no distance,” she said quietly.
Emily searched her face, as though trying to decide whether that was naive or defiant. Whichever it was, Margaret intended to keep to it.
“They already speak as though you are gone,” she murmured.
“And yet I am still here,” she said.
“For now.”
The words lingered between them. Margaret tightened her grip slightly.
“I will not allow them to divide us.”
Emily’s eyes softened, though doubt remained. Downstairs, the parlor room door closed. Poppy’s laughter drifted faintly upward, reminding Margaret that she had so much to protect.
“I will not forget where we began,” she said quietly.
“See that you do not.”
Margaret watched her disappear into her room.
Alone in the corridor, she realized the one thing that she did not want to acknowledge.
She was happy to leave home. She had believed she was strengthening their position, but there was more to it than that.
The match provided an escape, a chance to be herself rather than someone that simply helped her family and little more. Now she saw the cost more clearly.
If she was to rise, she wanted to bring her family with her, and that demanded more of her than a mere courtship.
Margaret did not send word before leaving that evening.
The decision had been impulsive, which in itself irritated her. Her conversation with Emily had settled, but it had left her restless. She wished to act, and that meant telling the Duke what she intended to do, so that they could make arrangements together.
She stepped from the carriage and ascended the steps alone. It was a risk, but one that she had taken before. Her maid was nearby, at least. The door was opened by an older servant this time, one she recognized from the dinner.
“Miss Fairleigh,” he greeted. “How may I assist you?”
“I wished to see His Grace.”
“I am afraid that he is not here this evening. He departed shortly after his return.”
“Did he leave word as to when he would return?”
“No, my lady.”
She held his gaze calmly.
“Did he say where he was going?”
“He did not, I am afraid. He hardly ever does.”
It was not what she wanted to hear at all. She enjoyed their time together, but there were too many things that she did not understand about him, and she wished that there were not.
“I see.”
The entrance hall felt larger than she remembered.
“Would you care to leave a message?” the servant asked.
“No. I shall call again another time.”
“As you wish. Good night, Miss Fairleigh.”
She turned before he could study her too closely.
The carriage door closed behind her with a hollow sound.
He was not there, and nobody knew where he was.
She tried not to think on it. After all, men of his position had engagements.
She knew that, and tet as the carriage began to move, her thoughts betrayed her.
Miss Eliza.
The name returned, and she leaned back against the seat, annoyed with herself. It was nothing, a servant’s mistake and no more, and she had chosen not to dwell on it.
But he had not elaborated. He had not clarified. He had simply closed the matter and she allowed him to. The carriage turned down a busier street. A pair of riders passed, splashing through shallow puddles left by the earlier storm.
Margaret stared at the blurred movement beyond the glass. She had to trust him, and she wanted to, but trust did not eliminate her curiosity, nor did it silence imagination. She recalled the speed with which he had corrected the footman, as if it were something he was prepared for.
She pressed her hands together in her lap, feeling rather foolish. He had made no secret of his movements before. He had called upon her when he said he would. He had conducted himself openly at the garden party. He had stood beneath the oak without hesitation.
If there were someone else, surely she would have known?
She closed her eyes briefly. Speculation without evidence was unfair, but Emily’s words echoed. She had to remember her place. What was her place in that moment?
A woman in courtship. Not a wife, and therefore not entitled to explanations beyond courtesy. If he were elsewhere by choice, if he were with a woman accustomed to that house, then he did not have to tell her as much.
But he had told her that he would not lie to her, and he had convinced her that she could trust him. And so, Margaret forced her breathing to steady. He was absent. That was all, and yet as the wheels carried her back toward Fairleigh House, the name lingered in her mind.
This time, it did not feel like nothing.