Chapter 11

C HAPTER 11

Let everywoman, who has once begun to think, examine herself.

—Margaret Fuller

Daisy eyed her askance. "You're awfully fancy looking for someone who's a poor orphan."

"Yes, I suppose I am." Marigold decided Daisy's bluntness spoke of a pleasing lack of artifice. And she also heard the faint echo of envy in her cousin's voice. "Which goes to show you that style should never come at the sacrifice of cleanliness. I'd be happy to launder your clothing with my own, which I will admit I own only because I am fortunate enough to have a friend who was very generous in giving my wardrobe to me."

"I wish I had a friend to give me pretty clothes."

"Then I will be happy to introduce you to my friend Isabella Dana, the couturier. She would adore dressing you in the latest fashions." Marigold judged that rational dress might not exactly appeal to Daisy in her current state. "You're absolutely stunning—beautiful and with the perfect, willowy figure for the styles of the day."

The girl's suspicion softened into heartbreaking disbelief. "Do you really think so?" Daisy blushed a revelatory shade of pink while looking wistfully at Marigold's smart sportswomen's tweeds. "If only I had clothes like that, Taddy wouldn't think I was so no-account—"

Marigold's idling curiosity took its cue. "And who is Taddy?"

Daisy tossed up one shoulder with the same defensive shrug both her brothers employed. "Just a fellow."

"Just a fellow you admire?"

"Mayhap," the lovelorn girl admitted on a sigh before she returned to her more cynical posture. "But don't go repeating that to anyone at home, you hear?"

"Naturally." Another secret to add to the tally. "I give you my word." Marigold let a long moment of companionable silence pass before she asked. "Is he very handsome, your Taddy?"

"The handsomest you ever did see!" Daisy answered quickly. "And cleverest and kindest and sweetest. And he just has the bluest eyes."

"Just as a young man ought to, if he can." Marigold could imagine the sort of callow youth who might attract Daisy's interest. But even as she tried to picture what this boy might look like, Marigold's mind's eye conjured up a different set of clear, piercing blue eyes.

How strange that she should think of Cab Cox at such a time. But she strove to put that clever, handsome man from her mind and recalled herself to her purpose. "And does this Taddy know how you feel about him?"

Up went Daisy's shoulder in that characteristically dismissive shrug. "I reckon he does."

"And does he feel that way about you?"

Her shoulders slumped. "I reckon he might. 'Cept …"

"Except …?" Marigold prompted. "Why can't you mention this Taddy fellow's name at home?"

"Because Taddy told me we need to keep it a secret. Swear you won't tell, because Pa'd forbid it, too, on account of—" She shook her head and shut her eyes and stamped her feet all at the same time.

"Because?" Marigold asked, already out of charity with both Daisy's beau and her father. Any young man who wanted a girl to keep his wooing her a secret was up to no good. And any father who forbid his daughter from exercising her right to self-determination was no father at all.

"Because Pa says it's for him to decide and he's already promised me."

"Promised you? In marriage? To whom?"

"He won't say exactly and neither will Granny—just that he intends to give me to a God-fearing sort of man. But they don't let anyone from the main come on the island and they forbid us all from going off, so it's just so awful."

"Do they mean for this God-fearing man to come here, then?" Marigold grew increasingly concerned for Daisy as she sorted through the possibilities. "Someone to help with the farm?"

"I don't know." Daisy kicked a rock into the sea in frustration. "Pa's always tormenting Will by saying he won't leave him the farm when he's gone, nor Sev. But who in their right mind wants this fearful old place?"

Perhaps someone who understood the value of coastal real estate.

"I hate it here," Daisy went on. "It's dirty and mean and makes me feel small and worn, and all hand-me-down and tarnished up!"

Marigold grimaced at the knowledge that she had thought the same of the poor girl.

But she had the power to change that. She could help Daisy—she could get her suitable clothes and help her find a job. Practical considerations before the theoretical—but the theory was righteously strong.

"An arranged, forced marriage will never do. You must tell your father—politely, but firmly." Marigold strove to make the complicated situation as straightforward as possible. "Simply refuse, and that will be an end to it."

Daisy gaped at Marigold, completely dumbfounded. "I couldn't."

"Of course you can," Marigold insisted. "This is the year eighteen hundred and ninety-four and not the Middle Ages—no one can force you to marry against your will. There are laws, even in such an isolated place as this. You are legally entitled to follow your own heart's inclination. We owe our parents—and our suitors—civility and respect, but nothing more." Marigold's opinion on the matter was firm. "No matter what your father says, you do not owe him your very self, even if he expects it. He has no right to expect it! The law is very clear."

Daisy's eyes were as wide as the sound. "You mean I really could marry someone else?"

"Certainly." Marigold was all calm assurance—with caveats. "Just how old are you?"

"I'll be twenty come August."

"Then you are legally of age in Massachusetts." Marigold felt she was on solid ground after her recent education on legal adulthood from the prim graybeards at Ropes, Grey and Loring. "Your father can't legally stop you from marrying whomever you like." Though Marigold would certainly have to look into who this Taddy might be before she counseled anything so restrictive as marriage, she could at least admit to the financial benefits of the institution—for others, not herself. "Does your beau have an income?"

"Like a job? Oh, yes. He's a journeyman, he said—which is good, ain't it? But I don't really care about that. All I care about is that he's tall and strong and just … just the swooniest." The poor girl let out a lovelorn sigh. "When I'm with him, I just feel so free and happy. Oh, you should see him—he swims like a dream. That's how we met—he swam over from the main the first time. As a challenge to himself, he said."

"I'll bet he did." He would have to swim like a dream to get across Salem Sound without being drowned like them girls .

But Daisy was a girl who needed saving, too—if Marigold could win her over. Surely then her cousin would be more forthcoming with any number of the secrets of Great Misery Island. "I can help you. I can help you with this beau of yours."

"Oh, I don't know." Daisy made another strangled sound of frustration and despair. "His family is some pumpkins, and I'm … well, I'm a Hatchet, and the Hatchets are donkey dust—no-accounts. At least that's what they say about us on the main."

Though Marigold had never heard the country terms some pumpkins and donkey dust , she understood them clearly enough in relation to no-account . And she heard the hurt in Daisy's voice.

"Might as well be the moon," Daisy continued. "And I hate all the sneaking around, cuz Granny and Pa don't like us leaving Great Misery. Especially now, after things got all sideways with the banks. But I oughtn't tell you that."

"It's quite all right." Marigold nodded in understanding. The recent banking panics had brought misfortune to many, including Marigold's parents—although Harry and Esm é Manners had been well down the road to ruin before that. "My family has had their own troubles with the banks too."

"And that's why you're here?"

"That's why I'm here. For a visit," she amended. Which was why she needed to focus her energies and skills upon Daisy's predicament. "And I am more than happy to invite you to come away with me when this visit is over." Surely she could find such a beautiful specimen some gainful employment with Isabella? With some small education, Marigold might be able turn the girl into Isabella's ideal prot é g é e.

"I don't know." Daisy's native skepticism returned. "The truth of it all is—" She hesitated, perhaps not yet sure if she could totally trust Marigold. "The truth is, I fear Taddy's just too fine for me."

"Impossible—you're a very beautiful girl, Daisy," Marigold assured her. "Perhaps you don't know that, because you haven't been out much in the world, but you're as beautiful as any Boston debutante. In fact, you quite remind me of someone I knew who was renowned as a society beauty." The family resemblance was, as Cleon had said, uncanny.

"But I'm not schooled and learned or refined like a Boston lady—like you."

"Thank you for the compliment." Marigold was happy to be gracious and set a good example for the girl. "But I am also happy to share my knowledge. Would you like to gain some learning and refinement?"

"Would I?" Daisy sighed. "Though Taddy says he doesn't give an empty oyster shell for city airs and graces, I know his folks do."

Marigold's solution was as practical as it was aspirational. "Then I propose that I help you gain refinement to make you absolutely irresistible to your darling Taddy—or anybody you might fancy."

"Will you? Can you? Really?"

"I give you my word," Marigold swore. She would educate Daisy for her own sake, independent of any idea of marriage—a New Woman who could decide what was best for herself. "But I warn you, it will not be easy."

Daisy didn't hesitate. "I don't care. There ain't nothing in not trying."

Despite the offense against proper grammar, the sentiment was so like Marigold's own feelings, she had to smile. She put out her hand to shake. "Excellent. You won't regret this, Daisy. We'll get started right away, with reading."

"I'm pretty good at reading." Daisy was enthusiastic. "Ma taught me longer than either Will or Sev."

It was instructive to find that not all of Marigold's Hatchet relatives might be literate—the scope for improvement was proving more vast than she had imagined. So vast, Marigold was momentarily overwhelmed by pity—she had always valued her own education and had known it as an infinitely valuable gift to herself.

And now was a chance to pass that gift on. "We'll start with Jane Austen for wit, confidence, and conduct. And we'll also go over your wardrobe, to survey your clothes." Isabella would know just what to do to fledge such a fashion novice. "But first, in exchange for my knowledge, I should like yours—I should like you to teach me how to handle a gun."

Daisy's surprise was equal only to her enthusiasm. "Well, come on!" She laughed as she raised her weapon and aimed it at a piece of driftwood. "Where's Pa now, when we could use him for target practice?"