Chapter 26

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

M argaret sipped her second cup of tea as she sat in the drawing room, still shaking. James was by her side, as Louisa sat on her other side. Alexandra and Penelope sat opposite her, talking through what must be done.

Margaret had been shocked by the turn of events that had taken place in that room. James had taken command, requesting tea be sent to the room as her sisters hugged Margaret, too. When the maid had offered James his usual brandy, he had turned it down, insisting he would share tea with his daughters.

“What can be done?” Penelope said, somewhat wildly as she shook her head, her own trembling fingers clutching the teacup tightly. “If he has gone…”

“If he truly has gone,” James halted just long enough to sigh as he looked at Margaret, “then nothing can be done, I suppose. Have you tried writing to him?”

“He didn’t even tell me where he has gone,” Margaret explained to her father.

James looked crushed at this news. He sat back in his chair, his spine slumping.

“What husband does that?” he whispered incredulously.

Margaret blinked as she stared at her father for a minute. These few words gave an insight into James’ mind that she had not considered for a while.

She did indeed remember James being a good father. It was the day they had lost her mother that much had changed.

He gave everything to her. His gambling, his drinking, it has been his way of coping ever since, hasn’t it?

“I am disappointed in him,” James muttered, speaking more to himself than to her at all. “I thought when he proposed after your scandal, he was a man with a sense of duty.”

“Hmm.” Alexandra shook her head. “The more I see of the world, the more I think men’s sense of duty changes with the wind.”

“Perhaps.” James nodded, clearly reluctantly.

“What can be done now then?” Penelope asked, blinking madly.

Margaret stuffed her handkerchief back into the sleeve of her dress, determined not to let anymore tears fall.

“I do not believe there is anything to be done,” Margaret said quietly. “Theodore said plainly when he left that he was a man without a heart. How can such a man be prevailed upon?”

James shook his head with plain disappointment.

“If he is made of stone, nothing can be done,” he said with a sigh.

Margaret thought his choice of words was interesting. A man made of stone, it was very similar to words that Theodore had used to describe himself.

“We must look to your own life instead, Margaret.” James turned to look at her.

“How do you mean?”

“I mean that your life is yours.” James looked down at his own teacup balanced in his lap. “Believe me, life can take a downward turn if one pins all their happiness on the presence of a single other in their life. If I can give one piece of advice that you’ll choose to listen to, let it be this.” He paused for a second, breathing in as if building the courage to give this advice. “Do not latch all your happiness onto one person.”

Margaret nodded slowly. In his own way, James was trying to protect her. She didn’t know how long this good humor of his would last. Perhaps just as long as he managed to hold himself back from having a drink, but she was glad at least that for a change, she was talking to her father, and not the addict who had so often taken his place.

“I can be happy without him,” Margaret said with firmness. She was glad Evelina was not there at that moment.

Evelina knew how romantic at heart she was, how often Margaret had pinned her hopes on marrying a man she loved. Having someone to remind her of this na?ve wish now would not help.

Margaret needed a stronger backbone, so she would make one for herself. She would find a way to be happy without thinking of love or a happy husband.

“What makes you happy?” Alexandra asked softly.

“You three,” Margaret said with a smile. “Evelina.”

“Family,” Louisa surmised quietly.

“Exactly.”

“Then we could do those things on the list you made,” Penelope offered up. “We could spend more time together?”

“I’d like that.” Margaret was relieved her father didn’t ask about the list, as it was something she had created privately with her sisters. Yet James seemed more interested in staring darkly down into his teacup at that moment.

Perhaps he is wondering how we ended up here.

“There are independent women of means who enjoy their lives,” Alexandra said, leaning forward animatedly. “There is a fine widow in the ton, Mrs. Selwin, who is known for her grand social life and her charitable endeavors, is she not? She is very happy without a partner in her life.”

Margaret blinked, thinking what a fine idea this was. She had never met Mrs. Selwin but had seen her in passing. The lady did indeed always look very happy. She was smiling, busying herself with affairs. Surely with how busy she kept herself, she did not have time to mourn the loss of what could have been?

“I like that idea. Very much.” Margaret blinked.

“You often talked of the orphanages before,” Alexandra said, leaning forward animatedly. “Perhaps you could offer to help with them in London.”

“A fine idea.” James spoke up, surprising them all. Margaret smiled in shock at her father who just smiled back.

“You enjoyed throwing the ball,” Louisa went on. “You could hold other events. Perhaps soirees for ladies, card nights, games nights. After all, you like your cards.”

“I do.” Margaret nodded. This was also a wonderful idea. “Perhaps when summer comes, I could hold tea parties too in the garden. We could play croquet and battledore.”

“This sounds wonderful.” Penelope leaned forward, full of animation. “You know Evelina would help with such preparations.”

Margaret knew Evelina would help if asked, but she rather liked the idea of doing all the preparations herself. It would help to keep her mind distracted.

“My debut is coming up, too,” Louisa reminded Margaret softly, laying her hand on Margaret’s arm. “If you still wished to host the event, you could.”

James leaned forward at this news. Margaret knew without needing to ask him that he was eager for this idea too. After all, the event would then be paid for out of her purse, rather than his. On this occasion though, she didn’t mind his eagerness. The idea of preparing Louisa’s debut was a wonderful distraction.

“Yes, yes, I would love to.” Margaret clutched Louisa’s hand tightly. “Would you come and stay a while, Louisa? We could make the preparations together. The two of us.” Now she had alighted on this idea, she was eager to see it through. Having another in the house would help her not feel so alone and suffer the quiet so much either.

“Of course.” Louisa smiled at her. “I’ll stay as long as you wish me to. Christmas is not far away now.”

“Yes. You must all come to my house for Christmas.” Now Margaret was making plans of things to do, she was eager to put as many into her diary as possible. She turned to her father. “You will come, won’t you?”

“If you wish.” He smiled softly. “Of course we will.”

It would give her something else to think about, to plan a wonderful Christmas dinner for her family, and to arrange for presents too.

“What if…” Penelope began slowly, then clearly thought the better of her words and fell silent.

“Go on,” Margaret urged. “What did you wish to say, Penelope?”

“I was just wondering…” She shifted nervously in her chair. “What if your husband comes back and wishes the house to be his? What if he intends to send you elsewhere?”

Margaret considered this for a short moment then shook her head.

“I do not believe he would do that. Not for a minute.” She was certain of her answer. From the very beginning, Theodore had shown no great attachment to that house, to the point that he had been content for her to make any changes she wished to. “He said more than once that it was mine to change as I wished. He only ever retreated to his study. I do not believe he would come back just for the one room.”

Penelope nodded, her whole manner sad.

“Well, there. We have our plans.” Margaret forced a smile. “Louisa, you will return with me?”

“Of course. I shall pack my bags at once.”

Margaret squeezed her hand, as hope for happiness filled up her stomach.

“I didn’t realize the weather had turned so bad,” Louisa whispered, gripping tight onto Margaret’s hand.

“Nor I.” Margaret braced herself against the side of the carriage, as they tilted from side to side in the wind.

The blizzard had come in suddenly on their journey, the snow practically falling sideways as the wind tilted them back and forth.

“How far is the journey?” Louisa asked, clutching to her fur pelisse and breathing into the collar in order to stay warm.

“Normally, it takes less than an hour.” Margaret shook her head. In weather like this, it would certainly take longer, and they had already been going for forty-five minutes at least.

She loosened her hand from Louisa’s and pulled back the curtain, peering out of the window in the effort to see how bad the weather had become. The snow was settling fast, even quicker than she had thought possible. The wind was now so bad that nearby trees were bending sideways, their branches waving frantically, like the arms of sailors calling for help as they drowned at sea.

“How far away are we now, do you reckon?”

Yet Margaret didn’t answer her sister’s question. She had angled her head to look behind them, peering out at the bend in the road. In the distance was a shadowy rider. It was the same tall figure with the distinctive hat that she had spied before. It was the same man she was certain she had seen watching her on the estate.

It's not possible. I was so certain it was in my imagination!

A chilling feeling ran through her body. Whoever that person was, did they mean her some harm? Why else would they continue to watch from the shadows, even pursue her in this awful weather?

“Margaret, who’s that?” Louisa’s voice earned Margaret’s attention. She looked behind her to see Louisa was looking out of the other window. She moved to peer over her sister’s head.

There were two riders waiting at the side of the road.

“Are they your footmen? Come to escort us?”

A sickening feeling spread in Margaret’s gut as the snow whipped around the two riders.

“Footmen do not cover their faces in black cloth,” Margaret hissed.

The two riders were sat eerily still in their saddles, their faces completely hidden with black cloth and hats pulled low over their brows. So much of their bodies were covered by frock coats, it was impossible to judge anything in their person at all.

One of the riders reached beneath his frock coat and pulled out a pistol, pointing it at the driver.

“Halt!” he bellowed to be heard above the billowing wind. “Ride any further forward, and you shall die.”

The carriage came to a hasty halt, skidding in all the snow and ice.

“Margaret…” Louisa’s voice quavered.

Margaret pushed her sister behind her on the carriage bench as her stomach knotted tight.

The first rider bearing the pistol moved forward, pointing the weapon at Yates and the driver.

“Move,” he warned, “and I shall fire.”

“The duchess carries no money with her,” Yates barked back above the wind.

He thinks they are highwaymen.

“Then it’s a good job we are not here for money.” The rider moved forward. Margaret could no longer see him from her position in the carriage, but she heard a thud and a cry of pain. It sounded like the assailant had struck Yates with the butt of the gun.

“Yates!” Margaret called out. She reached for the door of the carriage, only to find it was blocked by the second rider.

He angled his head sharply to the side, almost bird-like. It was eerie as he took hold of the carriage door and jerked it open.

“What do you want?” Margaret demanded of the silent figure. “He is right. I carry no money with me. I have these.” She snatched the necklace from her throat and threw it at him. She took off her fine silk gloves and threw them at him too, but they just dropped into the snow by his feet.

He is not here for money.

He stepped over the gloves and reached into his frock coat, just as Louisa’s hands tightened on Margaret’s shoulders. From within the frock coat, he pulled out a pistol, this one longer barreled than the other.

He pointed it straight at Margaret.

“Get down,” he ordered.

Margaret didn’t hesitate. She stepped out at once. As Louisa made to follow her, the man waved a hand.

“You’re to stay,” he snapped at Louisa. “Just you,” he said again to Margaret.

“No. No!” Louisa cried. “You will not take her from me. You will not.” She tried to hold onto Margaret’s shoulders again, but the masked man had now grabbed Margaret’s arm and jerked her down the last step of the carriage.

“Margaret!” Louisa screeched as the man kicked the carriage door shut, forcing her back inside.

“Louisa!” Margaret matched her volume.

“Not another word,” the man hissed as he pressed the pistol against Margaret’s temple.

Tears stung her eyes though she didn’t let them fall as words starved themselves on her tongue.

“Now, unless you wish to have a bullet in your temple and to be left here in the snow, you will do exactly as I say,” he insisted.

Margaret thought about defying him, about trying to kick him away, to make a run for it, but the risk was too great. She couldn’t let her future be a death in this cold snow, as she bled out from a bullet.

Ever so slightly, she nodded.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice dark and malicious, despite the words. Margaret was dragged away as Louisa’s screams of fear filled the air from within the carriage. “Now, this way, duchess. There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”