Chapter 39- Margaret
That afternoon, Margaret approached the drawing room where her sisters were sitting with timid steps.
She intended to break the news of her engagement to them as gently as possible.
For although in Margaret’s mind it was the best secret she’d ever had, she didn’t want to disregard their tender feelings.
They had all been excited at the outset of the Season; they all wished to be married—albeit with differing degrees of intensity.
Her sisters had experienced a fair start, at least in Margaret’s eyes.
Lily had nearly been swamped at the beginning by interested gentlemen, but then her visitors tapered down to a select few, until there were none left at all.
Beatrice hadn’t had many visitors, but Margaret reasoned that she shouldn’t feel at all despondent about the slow start—some ladies needed two or three Seasons to truly come into bloom.
Claire, surprisingly, had been visited by many gentlemen, all of them waifish and sun-starved, and had soon fled the crush of the main parlor for a more private one toward the back of the house.
Margaret thought it the height of irony that only the least likely amongst the Prestons had actually made a marital match.
She hoped her sisters wouldn’t be too disappointed.
She wanted them to be happy for her, to smile with her at her unexpected good fortune.
Margaret was radiantly happy. Now all that was left was to hopefully spread that joy to others.
When Margaret approached, Lily gave a tremulous smile and set aside her stitching. “I’m so glad we’re all together.”
“As am I.” Claire gave a regal nod. “I have something very important to discuss with you all.”
Margaret smiled and desperately hoped that this wasn’t to be one of Claire’s lectures. As the eldest, Claire often took it upon herself to issue sweeping decrees or to explain things to all of them. She wondered whether Claire sometimes forgot that they were only separated by a few years in total.
Margaret braced herself for some encouraging remarks regarding all of them still being unattached at the end of a Season that had seemed so full of promise at its beginning.
Margaret didn’t know how she would interrupt such a thing with her news, or even worse, announce it after Claire’s lecture was complete.
“I know this might be disappointing, perhaps even hurtful to the rest of you…” Claire began.
Then, to Margaret’s surprise, Claire hesitated as if searching for the correct words.
Margaret looked to Beatrice, who’d already raised a questioning brow.
Claire was never at a loss for words. When Claire spoke it was in confident, nearly strident terms. She certainly never dithered, as she was doing now.
“Everyone’s Season is different,” Lily said in a comforting tone, as if to help Claire. “Certainly, just because we’re sisters, we cannot expect that things will go the same for one as they do for another.”
“Yes.” Claire snapped her fingers. “Precisely.”
Margaret saw an opportunity and wedged her words in before it was lost. “I completely agree. After all, success for one will only bring more opportunities for the others in the future.”
“But failure shouldn’t be viewed as a bad thing,” Lily started.
“There’s no such thing as failure when it comes to courting,” Claire quickly corrected. “There’s only timing.”
“Timing!” Margaret exclaimed with wide eyes. “What a wonderful point to bring up. Timing is exceedingly important, and one can never tell what the right timing is until the right time is, well…nigh.”
Claire nodded. “Indeed. Just because the time is right for one young lady doesn’t mean the right time won’t come around again for the others, eventually.”
“Certainly.” Lily gave a nervous smile. “After all, though other young ladies might compete for the same gentleman, we certainly haven’t.”
“Courting is a solo journey,” Margaret thought it helpful to point out.
“Indeed, indeed,” Claire said quickly. “And the word journey might just be the perfect term to describe the endeavour. One never knows—”
“Have you all been into the snuff?” Beatrice interrupted in a droll tone. “For if you have, I pray you’ll share it with me if it will help me understand this disjointed conversation.”
But all of her sisters seemed to have suddenly found somewhere else to look. Margaret fiddled with one of her new hairpins and nibbled her bottom lip. Lily twisted a pearl ring around and around on a finger. Claire examined her fingernails.
Beatrice studied each of her sisters in turn. Then her eyes narrowed. “Wait a moment. Have you all been crying in front of William again, without me? I only just worked myself up into a proper cry this morning for a tiara, and now you all have new rings!”
Margaret gasped and reflexively covered her aquamarine and diamond. Lily promptly sat on her hand to hide the pearl.
Claire tilted her head. “I cannot speak for my sisters, but my ring wasn’t from William.”
“Who gave it to you, then?” Beatrice scowled.
“My betrothed,” she said with a smile that made her look much younger.
“You’re engaged?” Margaret cried, smiling widely. She shoved her hand forward, flashing her huge aquamarine. “Me too!”
Lily pressed her lips together, then whispered, “As am I.”
All three sisters turned to Beatrice, who shook her head with a sly grin. “Not me. Though I confess I’m relieved I won’t have to rub onion juice into my eyes for another bauble again.”
A flurry of joyful explanations followed, and Margaret learned that Claire was to marry her childhood friend, Lord Rutheridge, and Lily was to marry one Lord Hayes.
“I cannot believe you’re to marry the Duke of Ettrick.” Claire shook her head.
“You must be joking,” Lily said. “Margaret’s is the only engagement that was actually plausible. The gentleman visited her every day.”
Beatrice cackled. “Daisy will be sick with jealousy.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Margaret said, then launched into the tale of how Callum had proposed.
“Where was I when all these wonderful things were happening?” Beatrice said, shaking her head and scowling. “Lily’s fiancé stormed into a ball in his riding clothes. Claire got ravished in the gardens—”
“It was a kiss, nothing more,” Claire interjected.
Beatrice ignored her and continued,“—and Margaret saved the duke’s honor. Meanwhile, I was probably stuffing my mouth full of canapés and wondering why the only man who’ll ask me to dance is that dreadful Lord Rigsby.”
“He’s going to be doubly dreadful now that Lily’s off the market,” Margaret said.
“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Beatrice said. “Perhaps there will be a new young lady who’ll catch his eye next year.”
“Perhaps there’ll be someone who’ll catch your eye,” Lily said, hope brightening her smile.
“I’ve already decided,” Beatrice said stoutly. “I’m holding out for a romantic pirate.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re enjoying the book,” Margaret said. “Do you think you can finish before—” She caught herself and blushed.
“Before the wedding?” Beatrice rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’ll finish it before you move away to Scotland.”
“Oh, how dreadful,” Lily said. “I hadn’t thought of that, but we’re all moving away.”
“Not Claire,” Margaret pointed out. “She’ll stay in London.”
“Michael prefers his country house, actually,” she said.
“Oh, does he?” Beatrice scrunched her nose, her voice mocking. “Does Michael prefer his country house?”
“He does,” Claire calmly replied, her eyebrow raised.
“You all have to promise me something,” Beatrice said.
Lily leaned forward. “Anything.”
“Typical of you, not even to wait to hear the terms,” Claire murmured.
“You all must let me come visit you whenever I like, and allow me to stay as long as I like. It’s only fair,” Beatrice said. “For I am to be the old spinster of the family. It’s nearly decided.”
“Oh, stop it,” Lily said. “We’ll all be attending your wedding next year, you may mark my words.”
“And you may mark my words. I’ll be married at sea to my pirate, or I’ll have no wedding at all.” Beatrice put the back of a hand to her forehead and slumped against the cushions.
The sisters talked and laughed until it was time for dinner and then went down to face their rather begrudgingly happy brother.
He was engaged too, so it was only Beatrice whose mind wasn’t full of wedding plans and what was to come after.
But Margaret was glad to see that Beatrice laughed as heartily as the rest of them and offered many of her usual rejoinders.
Despite their brother’s suggestion that they get married all together to see if the minister could manage to keep the couples straight, in the end, each of the Prestons had different weddings.
Margaret and Callum were married in the evening, when the long rays of the sun had been dyed pink and purple, yellow and orange.
Margaret fit in quite well with the sunset.
She wore a lovely pale blue silk-satin gown with a portrait neckline.
She wore a lace veil over the aquamarine tiara that William had given her.
Perhaps Callum and Margaret’s ceremony was small compared to the usual wedding of a duke. Margaret didn’t know. The church was filled with most of the people who resided in her heart, so she couldn’t have been any happier. Ellis had even snuck dear little Albie onto the steps.
Margaret had never felt so beautiful as she did walking down the aisle to join Callum before the minister. She thought it was the love in Callum’s eyes that helped chase away the last shreds of misgiving she had over being the center of attention.
Margaret met Callum with a smile, placed her hand in his, and gladly promised forever.
The End.
But every ending is a beginning of sorts. Want to find out what happens to Beatrice? Read on for a sneak peek of A Grievance in Gingham!