“I needed some air.” Margaret had been a private person for most of her life. Although she had grown somewhat closer to Penelope recently, she wasn’t used to sharing all of her confidences with anyone. Even with Rose, she’d kept her most intimate thoughts to herself.
Penelope watched her with her normally sharp gaze. It was unsettling. “You are having second thoughts.”
Gah!Margaret exhaled. “Perhaps. It’s more likely that I’m feeling melancholy.” All of this must be nothing more than a combination of timing and female aggravations.
“Tell him you’ve changed your mind. Nothing has been made public yet. Nothing is official.”
Penelope had a point. And yet, none of her reasons for wanting to marry had changed. His suit had made so much sense to her just a few weeks ago. She had encouraged Mr. Kirkley and he had traveled all this way.
Margaret twisted her hands together. She simply needed to spend time alone with him. She searched the room for the familiar black and silver head of hair that had become familiar to her. Perhaps her doubts could be settled if they were to take a walk outside. Such a romantic setting as the moonlit garden was all they needed. She would experience the warmth of his caring and that which had drawn her to him initially could be reignited “Where is he?”
“He retired for the evening. You could always go to his room tonight—“
“No,” Margaret said more harshly than she had intended. “I suppose I will retire myself. It’s been a long day.” She had loved the time spent in the sea. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed so much.I had fun today.
It had been long and wonderful and tiring and... far too confusing.
That moment this afternoon when her hat was caught by the wind slipped into her mind. For an instant, she’d felt bare and off-balance but as she’d watched it swoop into the sky, swirling and floating, she’d felt oddly exhilarated.
It had indeed made a most magnificent exit. Margaret sighed at such an absurd thought. It had been her favorite hat and now it was gone forever. She ought not to have worn it. Silly of her.
Penelope narrowed her eyes. “You seem different.”
Margaret refused to meet her sister-in-law’s stare. “I just need to talk to him.” If only he would cooperate! And yet she found herself thinking not of her intended, but…
“Perhaps you can do so on your picnic.” Margaret had almost forgotten that George had reserved the day with her once he’d learned it was her birthday. It had sounded like a lovely idea at the time. Yes. She would speak with him then. There would be no one to interrupt them or distract him.
“Cook is aware?” She would need to have a basket prepared.
“It’s all been taken care of and will be waiting for you at the overlook. ” Penelope waved a hand through the air but then bit her lip. “And there are other plans. You’ll be wanting to look your best for the evening…”
Ah, but of course. The party that was to be a surprise.
Margaret nodded. She would not go walking alone as Abigail had suggested. Rather than have a long conversation with her dead husband, she would hopefully have a fruitful one with her future one.
8
Ladies of a Particular Age
Margaret awoke feeling much better, which was surprising, considering the day looming ahead of her.
She was thirty.
And on this day, four years ago, she had sat beside Lawrence’s bed, holding his hand. She had watched her husband and best friend take his last breath.
She had been sad. Dreadfully so. She had felt alone and afraid and so lost. But she had also felt relief. His pain had come to an end, and she would no longer be forced to watch him endure it. Comforting him, smiling for him, and assuring him that he was not going to die had taken its own toll upon her.
And at the time, she’d had a babe growing inside of her. She’d lost her husband but still had something wonderful to look forward to.
She remembered the guilt she’d felt—guilt for experiencing hope when she should have only known grief. She still wondered, irrationally sometimes, if the miscarriage had been a punishment.
Margaret shoved the thought aside. She would not fall into a melancholy with the sun shining so brightly on another beautiful autumn morning.
Determined that the day would be a pleasant one, she climbed off of her bed and into the tub that Esther had had prepared for her.
Three decades. It didn’t sound quite so ancient as the actual number thirty.
Oddly enough, it felt rather like a new beginning. She was old, yes, but she smiled to herself. Growing older was better than the alternative.
