by Joyce Alec
She studied the side of his face. His jaw was clenched, and his hand was tightened into a fist.
“Or at least what she thinks he would have wanted. Somehow I think she enjoys causing me undue stress.”
Margaret had to stop herself from reaching out to him to comfort him. Even if he was suffering, her touch might be unwelcome and inappropriate.
But when he looked at her, his face was gentle and seemingly pleased.
“And when I met you, I was reminded of something very important.”
Her eyes grew wide as she searched his. They were ever a mystery, and she found herself longing to uncover it instead of hide from it.
“What was that?” she asked.
“That I am not my father, and I do not have to shield myself from those around me like he did. I do not want to be like that.”
He smirked and laughed a small laugh.
“I do not want to have the emotional depth of a puddle.”
Her face flushed again, and she looked out of the window.
“I am sorry that I ever said such a horrible thing.”
He shook his head. “Do not be. Those words made me really think about the man that I am becoming, and how I will be better than the man that my father was. I will not allow others to suffer at my expense, or because of my indifference. I will be better.”
She could see resilience in his face that she had not noticed before. But as she did, she realized that it was always there, just quiet and dormant, but always present.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, as if to steel himself.
“Lady Margaret,” he began again. “You have opened my eyes. I would never want to cause another human being any sort of frustration because of my character. And the way you reacted to me, so plainly and so honestly, it has helped me to be a better man.”
She did not know how to reply to what he had just told her.
“I…” Margaret sighed. “Well, my honesty ended up not being for the better. At least not for me. I feel terrible for the things that I said to you. I was being unfair. It is evident that it was an accident when you first knocked me to the ground. I do not know why I reacted so harshly.” She turned her large eyes onto him. “I was angry with you, but I find that I am often angry with a lot of people. So I apologize.”
“Again, you do not have to apologize. You did a wonderful thing by helping me to get out of my own head for a few moments.” Lord Barkley laughed softly again. “I admire you greatly. I do not know very many people who would confront a man like me so openly, even in front of their own family.”
Margaret felt her face color once more. What was happening to her?
I was entirely wrong about him, she mused. I assumed that his attitude towards me had everything to do with how I looked. I wrote him off as another conceited man who only looked for physical beauty. Instead, as I should have known, there is much more below the surface.
“The character of a person is far more valuable than anything else they have,” he said, and she was not sure if it was for her to hear, or if it was for himself, as if he meant to convince himself of the words.
“That is true,” she agreed. “I suppose since I had sisters who were far superior to me in so many ways, the only part of myself that I saw had any value was my character.”
At her words, he turned and gazed into her eyes. He seemed frustrated all of a sudden, and he silently searched her face for some time.
“Your sisters are not superior to you. In fact, I think they have quite a lot to learn from you and your love of other people.”
She was not sure that she heard him correctly.
“Do not get me wrong,” he hurried on, “I think that both of your sisters are splendid. But they do not have the qualities that you possess.” He turned and looked deeply into her eyes. “Lady Margaret,” he said quietly, “you are a different sort of woman. You have convictions, and compassion for others than yourself. You have a great love of children, and for those less fortunate. You are unashamed of the truth, and I admire you greatly for all of it.”
She felt as if she was seeing him as an entirely new man. And she found that she was rather thankful that she had been wrong about him.
“You surprise me, Lord Barkley. I should have known your kindness by your dedication to the orphanage. I am sorry that I behaved so poorly,” she said, wanting him to know what was running through her head faster than she could keep up.
“I know I seem cold and aloof at times, but that is not the real me,” he explained.
Where is this leading? What is happening to me in these moments? Why do I suddenly feel completely at ease with him?
He was just a tender-hearted man with a rough outer shell.
He sighed again, and then turned and looked at her. “Lady Margaret, there is something that I have been considering, even more so now that we had a conversation with your father.”
A flash of fear passed over her, like a lightning strike on an open field.
“Oh?” she said, and her voice was unsteady. She swallowed hard. “What have you been considering?”
His demeanor changed, and she felt like maybe he was nervous again.
“We seem to understand each other in a way that everyone else cannot. You have made me a better man, and I want to continue to be a better man.”
Margaret listened as Lord Barkley spoke, feeling as if there had been few moments in her life that were more important than this one.
“I am more patient around you, and I have discovered a compassion that you have that I want to have in my life. I admire your dedication to the orphans. I have only given money, but you have given your time and emotions, which are much more valuable. I would always encourage you to continue your work with those children and help them grow, even if you one day have children of your own.”
The conversation with her father came back full force in her mind, and she blinked at him.
Is he speaking of marriage?
He shook his head. “Lady Margaret, I shall not delay my request any longer. I feel that we are a good match, and hope that you will consider being my wife.”
It was as if all of the air had been drawn out of her lungs. She could only stare at him.
Me? was the first thought that passed through her mind. He wants to marry… me?
The idea had her head whirling. Just days before she would have laughed in his face, believing him to be a shallow and thoughtless man. She had since learned that he was anything but, but she still had not even considered the ideas.
“I…” she began. “I did not expect anything like this,” she said.
Margaret could see that her words troubled him, but he only allowed the sadness to pass over his face for a moment. His brow tightened.
“If this is too forward of me, or if you need time to consider, then please, allow me to excuse myself.”
Lord Barkley inclined his head to her and made to leave the room.
She reached out and touched the sleeve of his jacket. Ever so slightly, but the motion was enough to make him stop and turn back around to her.
“I did not say no,” she replied cautiously. “I just need a moment to think.”
He did not move. He watched her face, but she turned away from him.
“I did not expect it,” she repeated, “but you are a man unlike any I have ever met. You have seen a part of me that others thought troublesome, and made me believe it to be one of my best qualities. You have made me realize that the love I feel for those children at the orphanage is not selfish or a waste of time, as my father would have had me believe. And you have not held my undue frustration toward you over my head. Something about you allows me to see that the world around me is not the way I had thought it was.” She sighed. “And perhaps even more than all of those things, it has helped me to see that every man is not indifferent toward me.”
Margaret hesitated, but only for a moment before she decided to open up fully to him. He has been honest with me, and I sh
ould do him the honor of doing the same. “I have been living under my older sisters’ shadows for my entire life. I have never been the most beautiful woman, especially not like Jane. Beatrice is also beautiful, and also very clever. I have always been plain in comparison, but in the last few years, I have been utterly tired of it. I have always been looked over, which made me feel insignificant. I suppose that feeling of insignificance has affected how I treat people. I do not allow anyone to get close for fear of rejection. I just thought that you were like all of the rest of the men I had ever met, and that I was just in the way, or too ugly to be seen.”
She was surprised when she felt the warm touch of Lord Barkley’s palm against her cheek. He was leaning in close to her, his eyes fixed on hers.
The look on his face was easy to read; he was almost amused, but there was adoration behind his gaze. She felt her knees go weak.
“My dearest Lady Margaret,” he said, and she was surprised at the emotion in his words. She wondered if this was who he truly was, once all of reservations were gone.
If this is who he is, then… I could marry him.
“You are a beautiful woman. And it is not just your face that makes you beautiful. You have a beautiful soul, and that is far more attractive to me than how well you can wear a fine dress.”
Margaret breathed out, and it was almost ragged. She felt a stirring in her heart that excited her.
Lord Barkley slowly pulled his hand from her face and appeared embarrassed, looking back out of the window in front of himself. “I may not have been very welcoming when we first met, but immediately there was something different about you. And I need that sort of encouragement in my life, Margaret.”
She felt her heart skip a beat.
He… he used my name!
She saw some color appear on his cheeks, and she smiled.
“You truly think that we would do well being married?”
The fact that she was now also considering it surprised her, but the idea was becoming more and more comfortable.
“My father would be pleased,” she said, and then laughed. “Well, once he is able to move past the fact that you challenged him.” She looked up at him. “Thank you, by the way. I do not think I have told you that your words meant a lot to me.”
He nodded his head and smiled as well.
Margaret looked back out of the window. “My mother would certainly be pleased, knowing that I married a man such as yourself, and that I did not end up an old spinster.” Margaret crossed her arms, anger flaring at the thought. “I think that is what she thought I would become.” She sighed. “And Jane and Beatrice would be happy, I’m sure. Most importantly, I do believe you would make me happy.”
Lord Barkley chuckled, and she looked over at him. “What is it?”
He shook his head. “Well, your sister, Jane—” He flinched at the informality, but he continued. “She has noticed how I have been watching and paying attention to you. And I think she figured out that I was attracted to you.”
“Did she?”
She remembered the grin she had seen on Jane’s face earlier that day and wondered what it was for. Suddenly it all made sense.
“She seemed to think that you and I would make a fine pair.”
“I had no idea…” Margaret said.
They looked at each other again.
“So, do you have an answer?” he asked, and she could see that his jaw was set tightly once more.
She wondered what she really did think.
Could she marry this man that stood in front of her? Would she find that this was the sort of life that she wanted?
“We could still serve at the orphanage, even if we had our own children?”
“Absolutely,” he replied.
“Then yes,” she said, and she nodded, and as soon as she said it, she knew that it was exactly the right choice. “I would be very happy to marry you, Lord Barkley.”
Epilogue
“I would like to make a toast.”
The eldest of Margaret’s siblings, John, held his glass aloft, his other hand clasping his wife’s hand. She followed his lead and held her glass up as well.
Jane and Andrew looked up, and also raised their glasses.
Robert and Alice smiled at one another, lifting their glasses into the air.
Beatrice and William looked up at the end of the table, reaching for their glasses, and looking across the table at Margaret and Richard.
“To our new family, finally complete. May the Lord bless us and keep us as we move forward with our lives, and may our family remain strong, healthy, and most of all, happy.”
There were cheers of agreement, and everyone smiled and grinned at each other. There were bright beams of sunlight filtering down through the tall windows onto the table, and as the family settled down for their meal, there was not a thing in the world that could trouble any of them.
“Who would have ever thought that we would have ended up here, this happily?” Beatrice asked, squeezing William’s hand. He shook his head in reply.
“Not me,” said Robert, and then laughed as he put an arm around Alice. “I believe God had a wonderful plan all along.”
Margaret looked down and gently placed a hand over her rounded belly. She met Richard’s eye and they smiled lovingly at each other.
“But I would not change any part of it,” she said.
“Nor I,” said John.
“And neither would I,” said Jane.
The room was full of good food, laughter, and a moment that would they would forever remember as one of their best as a family.
All together.
THE END
Part VIII
Christmas Masquerade Ball
By Eleanor Swan
1
It was the most wonderful time of the year. Yuletide treats, family, and gifts. Days were cold, and nights were spent beside the fire and reading books and sleeping beneath as many quilts as could be found. Warm tea in chilled fingers. Powdery snow on dark green pine branches.
Christmas time had come at last.
My other absolute favorite thing about this time of year was the number of elaborate balls to attend. Almost everyone celebrated with large banquets, dinners, and dancing, with tall and handsomely decorated trees in every corner, and candles glistening on every surface. Everything was warm and comforting.
The Walford estate hosted a magnificent ball, and I was quite honored to receive an invite. Of course, Lord Walford and my father had been friends for many years.
Golden ribbons glittered in every window, and only the finest crystal was used as serving bowls and goblets for wine. The Christmas trees were decorated with fruits, berries, and glass ornaments. The air smelled of pine, cranberries, and cinnamon.
More red ribbons and berries decorated the ballroom, and it seemed that green was the popular color for ladies’ dresses. I myself had chosen a red dress with golden ribbons and ivory lace. It had cost my parents more than they had expected, but it was so handsomely made that my mother said she would have paid four times the amount.
Mother and Father had long lost the desire to dance at these sorts of social outings. Mother was shy, and Father’s feet often hurt him if he stood too long. Age, he had told me, waited for no one, not even busy men. They found much more enjoyment speaking with their friends and other social acquaintances.
And that was what they did this night. As I made my way between circles of my own friends, I watched as they spoke with some very influential people. At least, I assumed they were. It was hard to tell, given that everyone wore a mask. Mother’s dress was white, hanging beautifully over her still youthful frame. Her blonde hair, much like my sister’s, was pinned up behind her head, a few loose curls hanging around her face. Father, dark-haired with bright blue eyes behind his bird-shaped green mask, was nodding to a man who stood beside them.
Yes, one of the most exciting reasons I loved this particular ball at the Walford estate was the fact that it was a ma
squerade. Everyone came with a mask, and most of the fun was that it was hard to tell who was who. Of course, my friends and I had shared our plans and our masks with one another beforehand, so we knew each other when we met at the ball. But it was still exhilarating to not recognize most people just by standing in front of them.
I had made my very own mask, with papier-mâché and dye made from cranberries. I had cut out some pretty filigree and roses. It had taken me nearly a week, but when it was all finished, the mask matched my dress perfectly.
I had been asked to dance by a few men I did not recognize. One of the men revealed himself, and I laughed heartily when I realized it was my dear friend, Lord Gregory. He said that he had recognized me by my golden hair pin, a gift that his sister had given me for my birthday one year. Another man had hardly spoken to me, and while I found him to be quite an admirable dancer, I did not accept when he asked if I wished to dance again.
The third man that asked me to dance was tall, dark-haired, and had brilliantly blue eyes surrounded by dark lashes behind his simple black mask. His smile was wide and easy, and he bowed before me with a handsome flourish.
My sister Sarah and our friends had all shoved me a few steps toward him, giggling furiously behind me. He held out his hand and I gracefully took it.
And what a magnificent dancer he was. He was confident and knowledgeable. I had yet to meet a man who such an agreeable dance partner. Not only was he a fabulous dancer, but he was a wonderful conversationalist. He was anything but shy, asking me how I was enjoying the ball, what I thought of the decorations, and if I enjoyed the tempo of the music. It was a whirlwind, emotionally and physically.
We danced for two songs, and I had forgotten everyone else in the room. It seemed he had forgotten the others as well. And all the while, I did not know his name.
