Through the Fire

by Elizabeth Johns

  “I overheard the matrons gossiping about me when I returned from the retiring room. It was not kind. They consider me to be ruined and hiding here.”

  “Rubbish!” he exclaimed.

  “Therefore, you may not want to be seen in my presence, or for it to be known that I am teaching your daughters,” she warned.

  “They can go hang. I do not need their society.”

  Lady Margaux ignored his chivalry and sighed. “My parents will try to force me to marry now, if anyone will still have me.”

  “We could help each other and marry,” he said, in partial jest.

  “Do be serious, I beg of you. Let us enjoy the dance.”

  That was a colossal mistake. Talking had been a welcome distraction from his disastrous thoughts. He needed to think logically about his future, not with emotion and feeling, especially with someone who did not wish for his attentions. Although, could that be a good thing?

  After the waltz, he stayed and watched Lady Margaux teach the girls a country dance. She was wonderful with them. They adored her. Would she possibly consider? He needed a wife, and she more than fitted his needs. He knew she would have difficulty as a spinster. Yesterday’s musicale and the church service were perfect examples of why. She would never be accepted as an independent woman here, though she was stubborn enough to try to brazen it out. Perhaps if she thought the alternative worse, she would accept an offer. It would be difficult to have a marriage of convenience, but they were becoming friends, and perhaps one day she might have more than friendly affection for him.

  Gavin felt as if he would be a good husband. He would certainly never ask her to do anything she was not comfortable with. Although he admitted it would be difficult to be near Lady Margaux and not have her, now that he felt attracted to her.

  Would it be uncomfortable if she said no? His girls would miss her. He desperately needed her help, but he was not certain if it would remain possible were she not his wife. With the gossip last night, she would be ostracized if she spent any more time alone with him. Would his protection be enough? If it were widely spread that she was ruined, she would be hunted by unrespectable offers.

  The music stopped, interrupting his thoughts. “That is all for today, girls. I think perhaps we should have our lessons at Breconrae tomorrow,” Lady Margaux suggested.

  “Must we be done?” Catriona asked.

  “This has been the best day of my life!” Maili exclaimed and gave Lady Margaux a hug.

  “Run along for tea,” Gavin directed whilst helping Lady Ida to stand.

  “Tea sounds lovely,” she agreed.

  “Catriona, please take Lady Ida to the parlour. I would like to speak with Lady Margaux for a moment.”

  Lady Ida went off happily with the girls. Gavin turned to face Lady Margaux, who was looking at him questioningly.

  “You wish to ask me something?”

  “Aye.” He looked took hold of her hands and looked into her eyes. “Lady Margaux, will you marry me?”

  Chapter 7

  I beg your pardon?” Had she heard him right? She had not considered he might be interested in someone like her. He had made no attempts to engage her affections. Maybe they were not as different as she had thought. She had merely thought him jesting.

  “I ken it is sudden.”

  “Ah. A marriage of convenience? And I had imagined you a romantic, Lord Craig.” Margaux barely maintained civility in her voice.

  “You ken I had not thought to marry after what happened with Lady Beatrice.”

  She remained silent.

  “I need a wife, Lady Margaux. At least you and I are not strangers. I would even dare to call you friend.”

  She acknowledged his words with a nod.

  “After the musicale, the way the congregation behaved, and the pace at which gossip spreads, you will have to make a choice. Your parents will do whatever they must to protect you. Would you rather be forced into marrying someone you do not ken? When we were dancing, it occurred to me that we might be able to help each other. A partnership, if you will.”

  “So you only desire me to run your household? And to help fend off title-seeking fortune hunters?” she asked, infusing her voice with sarcasm.

  “It doesna sound verra nice when you put it in such a way, but I do need your help. I thought after the musicale, you might be more receptive.”

  Her face relaxed. “I appreciate your honesty. You do not love me, I do not love you, but if I marry you, my parents and the villagers will be happy, while you will have a mother for your girls and someone to run your house.” She held out each arm, motioning as if she were balancing a weight with each one.

  “I would hope it would help you, too. I did think we were friends, and that means more to me now than only having a wife. But you are right; if you gain nothing by the arrangement, then I canna ask it of you. Forgive me for mentioning it.”

  “I am flattered, Lord Craig. It is just that I have always promised myself I would only marry for love,” she said sadly.

  “I would also prefer to marry someone I ken and respect, but I must marry soon. I canna do everything myself.”

  “I wish I had behaved badly. I haven’t even done anything remotely…scandalous to warrant this treatment!” She threw up her hands in disgust.

  “What do you have in mind, lass?” he asked, teasing.

  “I refuse to give in when I’ve done nothing wrong—other than flout what they think I should do.”

  “I will remain your friend, Lady Margaux,” he reassured.

  She contemplated the situation, chewing on a strand of hair in a moment of unladylike behaviour she was not normally given to. “What about an heir?” she asked candidly at last.

  Gavin looked at his feet. A faint blush tinged his cheeks at her plain speaking.

  Gavin tried to control the heat rising within. Plain speaking, indeed.

  “I would never force you to do anything you wouldna wish.”

  Margaux nodded. She knew he would be kind. The strange thing was, maybe it would not be terrible to marry him. It felt surprisingly…comfortable.

  She had been repulsed by marriage because of the way society viewed it. Then, once she had realized she couldn’t have what her parents did, she had turned against it. But her parents would never be happy as long as she remained unwed, and she could have a good life here; maybe even children. The thought of being pursued, even here in the country alone made her shudder as she thought back on the desperate measures men had used in London.

  “May I think on it?”

  He looked up sharply, surprise in his eyes.

  “Of course, lass. Will you join us for dinner?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I should like that. Thank you.”

  He walked her to the parlour for tea and to locate Aunt Ida. They took their leave shortly, and Margaux left with her thoughts in a whirl. Her heart and her mind were at odds.

  Gavin watched the ladies leave with hope in his breast. Lady Margaux had not said no. He could not believe he had asked in such a precipitous fashion, but he did not regret it. Could he really have the good fortune to find a wife so soon; one who was perfectly suited to care for the girls and to run the household? And who, perhaps, might even one day learn to have affection for him? He dared not hold out false optimism, but maybe she was different from society. She had said she had wanted to marry for love. He only worried she still harboured such feelings for Lord Vernon. He could not, in all fairness, be jealous of that, he reasoned. He himself was not looking for love. She would be an answer to his prayers.

  Gavin noticed a carriage pulling into the drive as Lady Margaux drove out. Who could be arriving now? The conveyance came closer and Gavin saw the vicar and his wife, both with stern looks of disapproval on their faces.

  “Reverend and Mrs. Mulligan, welcome.” Gavin greeted them with more cheer than he felt.

  “Lord Craig,” the vicar said as he helped his wife down.

  “Please come in. You just mis
sed Lady Ida and Lady Margaux. Are you acquainted?”

  “We are aware of them,” Mrs. Mulligan snapped.

  Gavin raised a deliberate eyebrow as he led them into the drawing room.

  “That is, we are familiar with Lady Ida and Lord and Lady Ashbury. We have not yet made the acquaintance of Lady Margaux or the other children,” Reverend Mulligan elaborated.

  “Were you aware that they are providing shelter for harlots at their so-called orphanage, Lord Craig?” Mrs. Mulligan practically spat venom.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “The house is full of young women with loose morals,” Mrs. Mulligan continued with distaste. “And leaving a young lady alone at a country estate can only mean one thing. You should guard your reputation, sir. It will do you no good to be seen with those ladies. I use the term lightly.”

  “I saw nothing to indicate…” Gavin said with a wrinkled brow.

  “Oh, you wouldna. But trust me,” she interrupted.

  “It is written in the holy book of Proverbs: He that keepeth company with harlots spendeth his substance,” Reverend Mulligan recited.

  “Were you close with my brother, Vicar?” Gavin asked, ignoring the recitation.

  The man cast his eyes down.

  “We had a disagreement, my lord. He refused to repent.”

  “I see.” Gavin did not know what to say, but he suddenly felt ill. He knew he must tread carefully, being new, but this surpassed all bounds.

  “We do not approve of his whisky operation. I trust you will cease the work of the devil?” Mrs. Mulligan demanded.

  “The devil? Is that not rather overstating the matter?”

  “It is written in the book of Ephesians: And be not drunken with wine, wherein is riot, but be filled with the Spirit,” the vicar recited again.

  “I see,” Gavin said clenching his jaw for fear he would say what he was actually thinking.

  “Yes, we are hoping, as the new laird, you will help our village return to God and cast out the sin that is pervading it by closing the distillery, and by helping us to convince Lord Ashbury to send the harlots away!” Mrs. Mulligan said.

  The vicar seemed only capable of reciting verses, and Mrs. Mulligan was speaking with such irrational conviction, Gavin could see he would get nowhere by arguing with someone so clearly demented. The Mulligans’ presence was making his skin crawl. He could think of nothing but how to rid the village of them.

  “I will think on what you have said, Vicar,” Gavin said, trying to keep the anger from his voice.

  “We came to discuss the solstice ball. We have decided we cannot support the continuation of this celebration of paganism. You would do best to cancel the ball and observe proper mourning for your family. I assure you the village will applaud your sensibility.” Mrs. Mulligan issued an ultimatum.

  How long must he sit in his own house and be insulted? He understood the vicar’s position to a degree, and that he felt he must preach what was on his conscience. But to imply Gavin’s family practised paganism and encouraged sin and debauchery was the outside of enough—not to mention the insults hurled upon the Ashbury name and their good works. Could these people be reading the same Bible as he? He had listened to enough. He stood up.

  “I am sorry you feel that way. The Craigs have been God-fearing servants all their lives. I have no intention of cancelling the ball—the ball that is put on for the villagers—or of asking Lord Ashbury to cast out the needy young women he is helping; nor yet to cease whatever business my brother had started in order to employ many of those same villagers and provide food for their tables. Is there anything else you would care to ask?”

  The vicar and Mrs. Mulligan glared at him.

  “We will have to wash our hands of you then, my lord. In Psalms it is written: Blessed is the man who walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.”

  “Verra well. Then may I also suggest you find another parish to preach in. Good day.”

  “You will regret this, Lord Craig,” Mrs. Mulligan warned.

  “Are you threatening me? I willna be bullied.” Now he was angry. He was never angry.

  “You will answer to God for your poor judgement,” she said curtly.

  “I will happily answer to God rather than you. Tallach will show you out.”

  The Mulligans left in a high dudgeon and Gavin felt sick. He had handled the situation badly, but he knew he was right. He understood why Iain had fallen out with the vicar, but why had he kept him on? Gavin found Wallace and told him of his decision, then went upstairs to change for dinner, feeling melancholy. He loathed conflict, but not quite as much as he despised self-righteous prigs who abused their privilege as men of the cloth.

  Margaux spent the afternoon pacing about the garden. Eventually, she made the decision to stay busy and not dwell on Lord Craig’s proposal. He did not truly want her as a wife, merely as a mother and housekeeper. Indeed, he was not stern, and she did not think he would demand anything unreasonable of her, but she still could not bring herself to marry for convenience. Her pride rebelled at the very idea. She did not see why she could not help him and maintain her independence at her father’s estate. She would weather this storm.

  However, when she sought out Mrs. Bailey to offer help, she was turned away yet again. This would never work if she would not be allowed to do anything. She threw up her hands in resignation, and marched back to the house. She would call on the vicar’s wife. There had to be something she could do for the ladies’ committee. If she showed herself a humble servant, eventually the village would open their eyes to the truth.

  Aunt Ida was resting, so Margaux decided to dress in her severest spinster’s dress and mob-cap before setting out alone. The world would have to accept her in this role. She travelled in the gig with a footman, at his insistence. She could deal with having him with her. Footmen often came in handy when needing to run a quick errand. In all likelihood, her father’s instructions to the servants had been that she not be permitted to go out alone.

  She trotted the gig through the small village and soon reached the vicarage, where she handed the reins to the footman. Jumping down lightly without assistance, she walked to the door and rapped on the knocker. No answer came, although she could hear the sounds of bustling activity, Perhaps they could not hear her. She pondered what she should do. They were obviously occupied, so it might be best to return another time. After a few moments’ indecision, she finally decided to send the footman around to the back door, to enquire whether or not the vicar’s wife was at home.

  She paced up and down the short drive for several minutes, uncaring that she was displaying her agitation to the curious to witness. She had never been in such a place, nor had she spent time in the country. And never alone.

  At last the footman returned, but he had a strange look on his face.

  “Is something the matter?” she asked.

  He hesitated.

  “You can tell me. I will not bite,” she said with a smile, trying to make him feel at ease.

  “The missus be home, but she’llna see ye.”

  “Pardon?” Had she heard correctly?

  His face turned red. He was clearly embarrassed.

  “I’d rather not repeat wha’ she said, m’lady,” he said looking down at his feet.

  “Very well,” she answered. She did not want to make him more uncomfortable than he already was. “Could you perhaps give me an approximation?”

  “I think she doona approve of the housing of ruined girls at Breconrae, nor your reputat’n.”

  “I see. Let us leave, then.” She would not allow her disgust to show. “I need to purchase a few things in the village.”

  “Aye, m’lady.”

  Margaux vowed she would find a way. She would not give up on her plans so easily. She was disturbed by the fact that the vicar had judged her before meeting her, but she hoped the rest of the village would be more accepting. S
he would not hold her breath, however, after her reception at the Squire’s musical reception.

  They stopped before the haberdasher’s shop, and Margaux handed the reins once again to the footman.

  “I shall not be long.”

  She walked into the small shop and was greeted with curious stares from the customers. That did not surprise her. She selected a few items to help with the lessons for Lord Craig’s daughters, and decided to treat them to some new ribbons. The shopkeeper seemed a kind man, but the ladies present were whispering and giving her scornful looks. Somehow she knew, without hearing the words, that they had already heard the gossip.

  Having paid for her purchases, she climbed into the gig to return home, not a little disappointed. This escape from London was not proceeding as she had hoped. She wished her parents had allowed her to go to the convent. She had no doubt that the nuns would have kept her occupied without her being the subject of ridicule, or a prey to the temptation of blue eyes.

  Lifting her chin, Margaux steeled her resolve and decided not to run from this. Once they saw her constancy, they would soften.

  Nevertheless, she could not help but be a bit forlorn when, on her return, she made her way upstairs to dress for dinner.

  Chapter 8

  The butler led Margaux and Aunt Ida into the drawing room, where Lord Craig was waiting to greet them. His usual pleasant smile was absent. Margaux had never seen him look cross before.

  “Good evening, ladies.” He walked toward them and made the proper greetings, but his smile did not reach his eyes. He looked upset. Did he regret asking her to marry him? Maybe he had heard more gossip about her in the village and had decided she was not suitable.

  Margaux wondered whether she should bring up her experience that afternoon or keep it to herself. She did not want to put him or his daughters in a bad situation. He would be here for the rest of his life, while she had no notion how her sojourn at Breconrae would unfold. She could not run away every time there was a problem, but her parents were unlikely to allow her to remain in Scotland unless she was able to redeem the situation.