Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

“ I like this one,” Alexandra insisted, waving the rather overly flamboyant material in front of their eyes.

Margaret felt her lips purse together, though she said nothing. She and her sisters were gathered together in the sitting room, making the preparations for the wedding. If the rather short letter the Duke of Thornfield had sent that morning was to be believed, there were just four days left now before the ceremony.

“Alex,” Louisa sighed and took the lacy material out of Alexandra’s hands. “We do not have the money to buy Margaret a whole new dress. We can simply embroider what we already have. Perhaps add a bit of lace to one of her old white gowns.”

“Maybe something like this?” Penelope, sat opposite Margaret, held up a much demurer lace pattern. It would certainly be cheaper to buy samples from the modiste, and they could then sew the patches onto the dress.

“Yes, I like that.” Margaret took the material from her sister’s hand, trying her best to ignore the letter she had discarded beside her.

It hadn’t been moved since it had arrived. Short and to the point, it consisted of just three sentences.

‘To Lady Margaret,

All has been arranged as I have said. Please find enclosed the particulars. Any extra arrangements you wish to make for the ceremony, please inform me of them.

The Duke of Thornfield.’

There was no kindness, not even the slimmest hint of courtesy in the letter. It left Margaret seething, quite determined to put her stamp on the ceremony, no matter how small.

“We can do the flowers ourselves,” Louisa said eagerly. Evidently, she could read Margaret’s foul mood, despite the false cheer and fake smiles Margaret had adopted. “The garden is quite full of fine flowers. Anything we’re missing here, we can take from Evelina’s garden.”

“It is a good plan,” Penelope murmured. “Father is likely to dismiss our gardener any day now. My maid says the gardener hasn’t been paid for the last two months of work.”

They all stilled around the table, not one of them fussing with the material anymore. Such tales reached them often from the tongues of the staff.

“It’s a wonder we have any staff left,” Margaret whispered.

“Well, where you are going, you’ll have more staff.” Louisa attempted a much more buoyant tone.

“You’ll have money, too,” Alexandra whispered giddily. “A duke! Margaret, you will be a duchess.”

Margaret forced her smile to remain in place, even though her cheeks were now hurting.

“I do wonder why the Duke didn’t send any more for the preparations himself,” Penelope murmured thoughtfully, writing down a list of the flowers they had in their garden.

“Money?” Margaret repeated.

“Well, you would have thought he would. Sent a little bit to ensure any preparations you wanted to make could be paid for. Our poor fortunes are in all the scandal sheets. He can hardly be under the misapprehension that we can afford it, can he?”

“He’s not.” The male voice in the room made them all jump.

Margaret whipped around in her chair. Standing in the open doorway of the sitting room, was their father.

James’ cravat was loose as he leaned heavily on the doorframe. He looked scarcely capable of standing upright as he stumbled forward, adjusting his tailcoat as if he somehow thought it could make him more presentable. An awful scent wafted off him.

Alexandra leaned back in her seat to be far away from it, just as Penelope wrinkled her nose.

“What is that smell?” Penelope hissed under her breath.

“Whisky,” Louisa and Margaret uttered together.

“And the trace of the gambling hall,” Margaret added.

Fortunately, they spoke quietly. Though even if they had raised their voices louder, she was not sure their father would have paid any attention. He was more concerned with walking in a straight line toward them.

“You mentioned money,” he said, moving to sit in a seat. Apparently, he hadn’t noticed that Alexandra was already in that chair. Margaret had to snatch her out of it, to avoid their father sitting straight in her lap. “The night your beau proposed,” he said with clear scorn, addressing Margaret alone, “he came to see me at the gambling hall. He asked for my blessing.”

Margaret stayed silent. She had presumed something of the kind must have happened, as over breakfast the following morning, her father had spoken of giving his blessing, though not under any specific circumstances.

“Can you believe it?” James looked around them all, fixing them with a curious gaze. “He actually came to find me in a gambling hall. Knew where to find me, too. Did you tell him?” He addressed this last question to Margaret.

“No,” she said coolly. “I do not even know the address where you like to lose all our money.” Alexandra squeezed her arm in an attempt to quieten her.

James was too busy trying to stifle a burp to notice her audaciousness.

“He offered up money. Can you believe it? Presented it, as if he were buying you.” James’ words made Margaret flinch. “I refused him. Said I didn’t need the money.”

“We do need the money.” Margaret’s words were met by hasty nods from all her sisters.

“He insisted anyway. Placed it in my palm. Told me to buy you a half decent dress and arrange a good carriage with the cash, but I am no fool.” James tapped the side of his nose, conspiratorially. “I knew I could double the money. With those notes, I could buy you the finest wedding!”

Penelope looked hopeful, leaning forward in her chair, but Margaret could harbor no such excitement. She already sensed from the fact she had seen no money yet, that it was gone.

“Did you lose it all that evening?” Margaret asked, well aware of how Penelope’s expression fell.

“The cards didn’t fall my way. It does not matter. They’ll fall my way next time.”

Margaret snorted, as her father stood.

“I need no duke’s help to get my family through this world. I’ll pay our way.” He stumbled out of the chair and headed toward the door again.

When he veered off to the side, Penelope stood and went to stop him falling over, but she was so small and slight in build at the age of just fourteen, that he nearly knocked her over. Somehow, they both managed to stay standing, and James left the room, singing a drunkard’s song at the top of his breath.

As they heard his voice disappear up the steps, Penelope returned to her seat as did Alexandra. They all sat there, staring at the empty doorway through which their father had left.

“He offered up money,” Louisa was the first to break the silence. “Margaret, the Duke of Thornfield offered to give you money for a dress.”

“Then he will be sorely disappointed when he finds a bride in a secondhand dress with sewn on patches of lace.” She turned her attention down to the swatches in front of her.

This news to her, though aggravating, was hardly surprising. Their father had gambled away everything else in life. What would be the difference now when a man literally handed him notes in a gambling hall?

“The Duke of Thornfield is more of a fool than I gave him credit for,” Margaret murmured with interest. “Did he think a man with a gambling addiction would be able to resist the pull of risking that money?”

“Maybe he is a fool after all.” Louisa wrinkled her nose. “Though to read the scandal sheets, he is something else entirely. A villain.”

“A villain? What kind?”

“Have you not read the scandal sheets today?” Alexandra asked, leaning forward with interest.

Margaret shook her head. She’d had no wish to ever read a scandal sheet again after the news of being caught pressed up against the Duke of Thornfield had broken.

Louisa nodded at Alexandra, who hurried off to a small table nearby. Reaching beneath a broadsheet newspaper, she pulled out the much small scandal sheet and bustled across the room, passing it into Margaret’s grasp.

“Pay it no heed,” Penelope pleaded. “We already know they print lies as well as truths.”

“It makes it doubly hard to sift the wheat from the chaff,” Louisa nodded in agreement, now adding to Penelope’s list of flowers.

Margaret shifted her attention to the scandal sheet and read avidly.

‘Rushed marriage for the Duke of Thornfield and a Viscount’s daughter.

If the rumors are to be believed, at this moment in time, the Duke of Thornfield is acquiring a special license in order to marry the woman he was caught with that infamous night at the Duke of Dunmore’s ball. Who can say what’s true? Yet in a few weeks’ time, everyone will discover the truth if Lady Margaret turns up on the Duke’s arm.

Could Lady Margaret have more to worry about though than just a husband from a rushed marriage? This writer has heard tales of villainous associations. It’s said, the Duke of Thornfield has connections in the black market and less than reputable merchants. Could it be that his fortunes after all are not from the dukedom but from dubious activities?

Lady Margaret should proceed with caution. Til death do us part is a long time to be marriage to a blaggard and a villain.’

Margaret looked up at her sisters. Louisa was trying her best to avoid her gaze as she started grouping flower ideas together.

“I always thought you’d marry for love,” Penelope said with sudden misery.

“Not everyone is so lucky in life.” Margaret forced a smile. “Worry not about me. The important thing is that our reputation as a family has been somewhat remedied.” She tried not to let her voice choke on her choice of words. “Your chances of marriage now will not be impacted by that incident.”

“And you really were just in that room because your dress came undone –” Alexandra began uncertainly. She broke off as Louisa glowered at her.

“Of course, I was.” Margaret’s smile faded. “I would not have duped any man into marriage, least of all a man so cold and heartless as he.” She snatched up his letter from where it rested on the table.

The Duke of Thornfield hadn’t even put ‘from’ or ‘yours’ at the bottom of his letter. His writing was as cold as his speech.

Sensing the air around the table shift as her sisters worried about her, Margaret shook it off. She placed the letter back down, stood tall and struggled to keep that smile in place.

“All will be well. At least I shall be out of this house, shall I not? Though I shall miss you all greatly, maybe under another man’s income, I will not be putting any more strain on the finances here. Yes, it will be better for us all.” She laid a hand over Alexandra’s beside her, seeing her sister’s expression had turned to one of pure terror. “Dearests, do not worry about me.”

“How can we not?” Penelope said tartly. “You are to marry a… a…” She thrust a finger down at the scandal sheet, clearly finding it unbearable to utter the words. “A man like that?”

“A villain, is what they called him,” Louisa said calmly.

“Yes, then I shall marry a villain, and I shall keep my distance. Truly, sisters, all will be well.”

Before Margaret could say anything more to assure them that this was for the best, the housekeeper appeared in the doorway.

“Lady Margaret, another letter has arrived for you.”

“Thank you.” Margaret offered up her hand and the housekeeper hurried forward to place it in her grasp. “That is most kind.”

She waited until the housekeeper was out of the room before she read it. Despite her determination to maintain good cheer and not worry her sisters further, clearly, she failed. The falling of her smile made Louisa stiffen beside her.

“What does it say?”

“It says…” Margaret folded up the letter. “It is from the Duke of Thornfield. He says he is quite determined to keep the ceremony as small as possible, so whisperers do not hear of it. We are to have no wedding breakfast.”