It was not, and Margaret wished that she had encouraged her sister to wait after all. If her mother could only have two daughters out, it could have been her. She could have had one final chance to find a match for herself and done the very thingthat she had been expected to do before. Everything would have been easier.
She scolded herself for thinking such a thing. Of all of the things she had done, clipping her sister’s wings was never going to be one of them.
“All will be well,” she promised her sister. “Even if things were not as they should be– which of course they are, I would not let anything happen to you.”
“I know, but Maggie, you should think of yourself too. I know that you want to be loved, even if you claim otherwise.”
“I do not claim otherwise. I am more than happy to be loved, but that does not mean that I will be. I am not the sort of lady who finds true love, not like yourself and Poppy.”
“I disagree, but then I often do.”
Margaret laughed softly at that, and then her sister left the room. She remained still for a moment, then looked out of her window once more. She would miss this life once it was gone.
But then she realized that her mother had given her one last chance. She would have one more evening, one more ball, and she would enjoy it if it killed her.
CHAPTER 2
“Surely you do not mean it?”
Margaret’s friend, Miss Eleanor Whitcombe, pushed a dark curl behind her ear as she looked at her with wide blue eyes. The four of them were at tea at Clara Henshaw’s home. Clara was by the window, looking out across her garden rather than truly engaging, but Margaret knew that she was listening, too.
“I do. It has been a long time coming and you know it. I do not want to spend the rest of my life looking for something that is not there for me. I would much prefer to aid my sisters in their endeavors instead. I can make myself useful that way.”
“That does not sound like you,” Beatrice Lennox noted, her soft blonde hair tied loosely back. “Just last year, you were telling us that you wanted to marry well, so that you might secure your sisters’ future.”
“That was only an idea that I had, and I hardly considered it properly. I considered marrying for the sake of it, yes, but we all know that I could never truly do that. I shall either marry for love or I will not do so at all. It simply transpires that I will not be doing so.”
“I do not believe it for a moment,” Eleanor argued. “You may have many interests, Maggie, but running away to a convent is not one of them.”
“Who said that I would certainly choose the convent? I may decide to be a companion, for all we know. Such a life does, indeed, call to me.”
“It calls to you about as much as a life as a sailor does myself. You want to be loved, and there is no shame in that. Why can you not accept it?”
“Because it is not going to happen for me. I tried for three years, and I have nothing to show for it. Now that both of my sisters have entered society, our mother has more than enough to contend with. I do not need to make everything all the more difficult.”
“You are the one that does most of the work,” Beatrice pointed out.
“Yes, but when gentlemen see me as difficult, which they do, it affects my sisters’ prospects too. Therefore, I have a choice. Either I marry the first gentleman that offers it and I live a life Ido not want, or I do something on my own terms. You all know what my preference would be in that regard, yes?”
Her friends quietened, but Margaret knew that they were not convinced. She had never been a good liar, and it was not a skill that she would ever gain. However, she was grateful that they did not push the matter, as it made everything easier to go through. Had they insisted that she followed her heart, it would have destroyed her.
She returned home and stared at the gown hanging in her room. It was pale gold and glittered in the sunlight, the one that she had prepared for her first event in society. There was nothing that she wanted more than to shove it deep down into a box and have it sent away, but she remembered how her fingers ached altering it and she could not bring herself to do so. She had too many pin pricks in her fingertips for it to have all been for nothing.
One last dance it was.
“But Mama!” she heard Emily whine from beneath her room. “Have you not considered that this will ruin my season?”
An eyebrow raised, Margaret crept to the hallway and listened out. She could see Emily pacing the hallway, her mother frantically trying to console her.
“Now is not the time,” she explained. “The Johnson Masquerade is quite improper, given that those invited can do as they please. It is not the right way for you and Poppy to begin your season.”
“And what of Margaret?”
“I– yes, Margaret too. It is not right, Emily.”
Margaret remained as still as she could. That evening was to be a masquerade, and her mother had used that as an excuse for their absence. It had been quick thinking on her part, but it hurt Margaret all the same to have already been perceived by her mother as unable to attend a single event. She was already on the shelf and headed for the convent.
She turned back, the gown sparkling in such a way that it was almost mocking her. She sighed, lying on her bed on her back and looking up at the ceiling.
