by Joyce Alec
She read that Jane had also invited her sister Beatrice, and that she and her husband were coming as well. John and Agnes had their children to care for, and Robert and Alice were not able to leave his parish for the weekend. So, it would just be Jane and Beatrice, instead of all of her siblings, but Margaret was just excited to be able to spend some time with her sisters.
She left for their house on the morning of the ball, having decided to remain at Jane and Andrew’s home for a few days after. Her first meeting with the board of directors at the orphanage was to take place five days after the ball, so she hoped to fit in as much as she could before she had to return home.
Jane greeted her at the door, as gorgeous and graceful as always. Her blonde hair was styled in a chignon at the base of her neck. She embraced Margaret, cooing over her like a child, drawing her indoors where it was cooler.
She was whisked upstairs, aware that there were quite a few more people around than usual, but unable to stop and see any of them. Jane insisted that she start getting ready for the ball, for the rest of the guests would be arriving within a few hours.
She was pleased that Jane was aware of her desire to look good for the ball and to respect her wishes to have the time to prepare.
Margaret had brought some of her favorite dresses along, including a pale pink one with white lace, as well as a rich blue one with pearls sewn into the bodice, and perhaps her favorite of all the ones she owned: a pale green dress with a beaded waistline and intricate needlework along the bottom, sewn with flowers and vines, creating a beautiful, intricate pattern all the way around the dress.
“Of course you will wear this one,” Jane said, gesturing to the green dress that Margaret held in her hands. She loved to run her hands over the smooth fabric, almost like water.
Beatrice appeared soon after, and there was much excitement between the women. Margaret noticed that both of her sisters appeared much more calm and easy to get along with now that they were married; she suspected it was due to the fact that their frustrations and poor moods were now directed at their husbands instead of her.
Unfortunate for them, she thought, but that is their problem now, not my own.
Beatrice insisted that she do Margaret’s hair, which Margaret refused at first, saying that Beatrice would not do it the way that she wanted. But Beatrice and Jane insisted, and before Margaret knew what was happening, she found herself put in a chair in front of a mirror in Jane’s room with Beatrice tying her hair into several braids.
Many of the guests were already staying at the manor as guests.
“How many people are here?” Margaret asked, looking at both the men and women who seemed to be pouring out of every door near the ballroom.
“A few,” Jane replied, waving and smiling to a group of them.
“This is more than a few,” Margaret replied. “And I do not know any of them!”
“Most of them are Andrew’s friends from when he was younger.”
“Interesting,” Margaret said.
She looked around at a number of them and found that she was suddenly nervous. Her sister, Jane, was so beautiful that Margaret was always outshone standing beside her. Beatrice, too, was very pretty.
Her only advantage with any of the young eligible men was that she was single, and both of her sisters were happily married.
At least they looked happy, as they looked up into the faces of their husbands in a nearly nauseating manner.
Margaret rolled her eyes.
She stood with them as they greeted guests as they arrived, and she was introduced to many of them. None of them were particularly remarkable, and she found herself almost bored by the event.
At least my dress is prettier than any that the other women here are wearing, she thought, smiling to herself.
A man appeared in the room, from one of the doors along the hall, entirely alone. Margaret only noticed him because everyone else had made their way into the ballroom, Beatrice and William included. He had dark hair, and a closely trimmed beard, and he looked oddly familiar.
“What is it, Margaret?”
Margaret shook her head. “Oh, nothing,” she replied. “I just thought I recognized someone.”
Jane followed her gaze. “Oh, Lord Barkley? How do you know him?”
Margaret frowned. “Well, I do not know him, but he is quite rude.”
“Rude?” Jane replied. “That is odd. I have never known him to be that way.”
Lord Barkley looked up, saw Andrew, and began walking down the hall toward them slowly. He kept glancing over his shoulder as if afraid he was being followed. This annoyed Margaret a great deal.
“He is one of Andrew’s oldest friends,” Jane continued to tell her. “And I mean that both literally and figuratively. He is two and thirty, so he is a few years older than Andrew, but they have known one another since they were boys.”
Lord Barkley stopped beside Andrew, and the two of them looked into the ballroom, talking in low voices to one another.
Margaret watched his face closely.
“I only just met him when he arrived a few days ago. A rather pleasant man, if not a bit quiet. Andrew says that he often keeps to himself. Comes off a bit stiff to people he does not know.”
Margaret straightened when the two men turned to look at them.
“What is it?” Jane asked, noticing as well.
“I should not be so rude,” Andrew said, his handsome face splitting into a grin. “Lord Barkley and my dear sister-in-law are not acquainted, are you?”
“We are in a way,” Margaret said, glaring at the other man.
His brow furrowed, and she saw recognition in his eyes. Had she been that easy to forget? Was she so unremarkable that he had dismissed her so easily? She did not forget him. It caused her temper to flare and she had to ball her hands into fists to keep them from shaking.
“Oh?” Andrew asked, apparently rather pleased, unaware of the animosity between them. “How do you know one another?”
Margaret crossed her arms, a sneer crawling up into her features. “This gentleman was so focused on his own comings and goings that he did not see a lady walking along the same path as he was, and he stumbled right into me, nearly causing me to fall onto the ground. He treated me as if I did not exist.”
Jane pursed her lips, her eyes flashing Margaret a warning.
“But no, we have not met formally,” Margaret finished, inclining her head in what was meant to look respectful, but she certainly did not feel it.
“Well, then allow me to introduce you,” Andrew said, clapping his friend on his shoulder. “Lady Margaret, this is my good friend, Lord Barkley. Lord Barkley, this is Lady Margaret, Jane’s youngest sister.”
Lord Barkley’s dark eyes were unreadable, but he bowed his head to her, holding onto the lapel of his jacket. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Margaret.”
His voice was deeper than she remembered, with a tone that reminded her of water over a creek bed, low and gravely.
“The pleasure is all mine, I assure you,” Margaret replied, and she did not attempt to hide the sarcasm in her voice.
Andrew smiled uncomfortably.
“So where was it that the two of you ran into one another?” Jane asked, looking at Margaret accusingly.
“At the orphanage,” Lord Barkley replied before Margaret could. “I was on my way in, she was on her way out.”
Jane looked at her. “Oh, yes, Margaret has been volunteering with the orphans,” she commented.
Lord Barkley nodded his head.
Margaret watched his face, suddenly feeling a rush of different emotions. She was still frustrated, perhaps in a very superficial way, that he had been so rude to her when they had last seen each other. She was frustrated by the fact that he seemed so indifferent to her existence.
But on the other hand, she was ashamed because it had just dawned on her that he was the same Lord Barkley that gave so much money to the new orphanage.
“Well,” Marg
aret began. “Yes, that was where we ran into one another. Quite literally,” she ended.
“Margaret…” she heard Jane hiss under her breath.
The two girls exchanged glances, but Margaret turned away quickly.
“Ah, yes, you have made quite the investment in the orphanage, have you not?” Andrew said.
Lord Barkley only nodded.
“Wonderful,” Andrew continued, clapping his hands together.
Margaret could tell that he was desperate to change the topic, to ease the tension that was palpable in the conversation.
Jane swooped in to help. “Lord Barkley, Andrew was telling me that you were also quite the cricket player when you were younger. Do you still enjoy playing?”
Margaret rolled her eyes. There were few things that she thought were more boring than cricket. Their older brothers played, and Margaret always hated watching the matches, and she was not shy in letting her parents know how much she disliked the game.
Her feelings had not changed much, but her tantrums were internal now.
Lord Barkley nodded again. “Yes, I do quite enjoy the sport.”
Andrew beamed, the relief evident on his face. “And he is quite good!” He looked over at Margaret meaningfully, as if this information would surely impress her. “Most men would cheat in order to be on the same team as Lord Barkley, for the opposing team would surely lose!”
Jane laughed politely like she always did whenever in the presence of people, while Andrew roared with laughter.
Lord Barkley did not seem amused, and neither was Margaret.
At least we can agree that these two are strange.
“Well, I for one have always found cricket to be…” She saw Andrew’s face light up when she spoke, as if to say that he was so pleased that she was engaging in civil conversation. “Well, I have found it to be the most dreadful waste of time.”
If Jane could have spit fire like a dragon, she surely would have in those moments.
She was standing so close to Margaret that neither of the men would have seen, but she reached over and pinched the back of her arm, right above her elbow, just like she used to do when she was younger.
“Margaret,” she hissed, her face set in a tight, false grin. “There are some playful comments that are unwelcome to some people.”
Margaret shrugged her shoulders, pulling her arm free of Jane’s fingers. She resisted the urge to rub the spot that had been pinched, which now throbbed with pain. She did not want to give Jane the satisfaction.
“I thought that honesty was appreciated in a modern society,” she retorted calmly. “Is it not, Lord Barkley?”
Lord Barkley looked at her, and his expression was unchanging. Did nothing surprise or please the man? His dark eyes did not even seem that interested in her or what she said. There was no curiosity in his eyes, and this greatly frustrated her.
Why is he so uninterested?
“You are certainly entitled to your opinion,” he replied, with still no emotion. “Even if I do disagree with you.”
Margaret could feel Jane tense beside her. She saw her turn to look at her, and met her eyes.
Do not dare say anything else, is what Margaret interpreted from her.
Margaret smiled back, and Jane’s eyes grew wide.
She knew that her sister did not want to be embarrassed any further.
“Honesty is always a good thing,” Andrew said, his eyes wide, but that determined smile still on his face. “As is peace, and good will!”
Margaret snickered. “Peace is only as good as the other person is at lying. It is either superficial or wishful thinking.”
“So, in your opinion, no man is capable of living in peace?” Lord Barkley asked.
Margaret glared at him. “No.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “Margaret, is everything all right?” she asked, and Margaret could hear the anger underlying her words.
“I am perfectly all right,” Margaret replied. She shot Lord Barkley a dark look. “I simply have no interest in speaking to a man who has the emotional depth of a puddle.”
“Margaret!”
Jane had lost her calm demeanor, and she was looking at her with open-mouthed disdain. She was no longer attempting to hide her frustration. “I will not allow you to behave this way any longer. You are coming with me.”
And before she was aware of what she was doing, Jane had snatched Margaret’s hand and was dragging her down the hall.
She threw open a door, her grip around Margaret’s wrist like a vice that she could not break from, and she did try. Jane pulled Margaret around and threw her through the door.
It was a narrow hall that led down to the kitchens, but it was quiet aside from the distant sound of pots and the servants talking on the floor below.
“What on earth are you doing?” Jane hissed, her pretty face contorted with rage. “Are you attempting to ruin my husband’s reputation?”
“You mean your reputation,” Margaret retorted, putting her hands on her hips.
Jane took a step toward Margaret, her face somehow even angrier.
Margaret took a step back. “Well, it is true! You have only ever cared about your own reputation!”
Jane cried out in exasperation. “Did it ever occur to you that people can change? And that sometimes a reputation is actually important? Especially to someone that I am married to?”
Margaret rolled her eyes.
“Why are you so angry? Because a man bumped into you? Do you not think you are overreacting? You went too far out there!” Jane said, dropping her voice, but the acid was still in her tone. “There was no reason to be so antagonistic toward Lord Barkley.”
“He was about as interesting as a dribbling candle,” Margaret replied, her voice just as icy.
“That man is one of the most eligible men in the country right now,” Jane replied. “His father was incredibly wealthy, and he inherited almost all of it, being an only child.”
“That is all well and good for him,” Margaret replied. “Why does that matter to me?”
Jane sighed heavily. “Did you misunderstand what I said?”
Margaret blinked. “Jane… no, you did not mean…”
She threw her hands into the air and turned her back to Jane.
“You have absolutely lost your mind if you think I would ever consider marrying a man like that!”
“Then you are a fool!” Jane replied.
“He is almost old enough to be my father!” Margaret replied, rounding on her sister again.
“He is not!” Jane replied, though with less conviction. “He is only a few years older than Andrew.”
“Precisely my meaning!” Margaret replied, finally feeling as if she had the upper hand in the argument.
“Plenty of women marry men who are older in years. Our cousin, Violet, married a man almost twice her age. And she is very much in love with him. They just had their first child.”
Margaret stuck out her tongue in disgust. “I could not marry someone as old as John,” she replied. “I could not!”
“Well, thanks to your dreadful actions tonight, I do not think you will ever have to worry about a proposal from Lord Barkley. Your behavior was a disgrace. You are just lucky that I will not mention it to our father. Now, if you do not act like a lady the rest of the evening, I will have to ask you to retire to your room. I will not be embarrassed any further.”
Margaret huffed and glared at Jane.
Jane responded in a calm tone. “Pray tell me why you are so angry with Lord Barkley. Surely, there must be more to your story. Is it because he is shy?”
Margaret laughed bitterly. “Shyness? You men utter indifference?”
Jane seemed surprised. “Indifference?”
“You do not know what it is like to be ignored and to go unnoticed. I was so easily missed that he walked straight into me.”
“And you will not even consider that perhaps it was you who walked into him?”
“No,” Margaret r
eplied stubbornly.
“So, your pride has been wounded, has it?” Jane replied. “That is why your behavior towards Lord Barkley was so deplorable?”
Margaret flinched at the word deplorable.
“You cannot understand, Jane,” Margaret said bitterly. “You have never understood.”
“What do you mean?” Jane replied, her voice still holding an edge, but it was gentler than it was before. Just like her to ever be the older sister.
“You are stunning, and you always have been. You do not know what it is like to be plain. And how could anyone notice me, when you and Beatrice were standing beside me?”
Jane’s face softened, but Margaret shook her head.
“No,” she said, when Jane attempted to pull her into an embrace. She held out her arms stiffly, preventing Jane from coming any closer.
“You just don’t understand.”
She felt tears sting her eyes, but her back was turned before Jane could see in the dim lights of the candles along the hall. She opened the door before Jane could say anything else, and she swept into the hall beside the ballroom.
She closed the door behind her, and turned back toward the stairs heading to her room.
I just need a few moments to pull myself together again, she told herself. I am fine. She just does not understand what it is like to have every man walk right past you as if you were nothing more than a painting on the wall.
She was halfway to the stairs when she gritted her teeth. No. No man will make me retreat to my room. I shall go back into that ballroom with my head held high and a smile on my face.
She furrowed her brow.
He shall not see me cry.
5
Lord Greenshire ushered Richard away from the hall and into the dining room, where tables were stacked high with all manner of foods. The room was full of people milling around, all immersed in their own conversations, or seated at smaller tables along the wall to the room, enjoying their food and drinks.
