Page 85 of The Dravenhearst Brides
The windows were open in the church house to let in the cool October breeze, but even still, Margot felt stifled. She’d worn a high-collared dress, and it scratched terribly at her skin. Tight and constricting.
Father Simmons was preaching, droning on and on, up at the lectern. “And the Pharisees came to him, and asked him, ‘Is it lawful for a man to put away his wife?’”
Merrick’s eyes glazed over where he stood. Just beyond him, in the pew across the aisle, lurked Alastair. He was staring intently at Margot.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.Her mind tolled like a church bell. A funereal echo.
Her fingers tightened on the wooden pew. Margot imagined her pallor turning green, tasted copper pennies in her mouth, the way she always did when a wave of morning sickness was coming.
Not now.
“And he saith unto them, ‘Whosoever shall put away his wife, and marry another, committeth adultery against her. And if a woman shall put away her husband, and be married to another, she committeth adultery.’”
Margot’s vision grew spotty. She couldn’t tell if she was going to faint or be horrendously, embarrassingly sick.
She swallowed once, twice, three times, smacking her lips. She looked for an escape, but she was blocked into the pew by Merrick.
And across the way, Alastair. Alastair, who was frowning, all furrowed brows and sour lips. Alastair, who was turning in the pew, opening his mouth…
“Merrick?” She batted weakly at her husband’s arm. “Merrick!”
He blinked awake. “What?”
“I need to…” She gasped, a hand fanning her face. “I think I might…”
With a single look at her, Merrick understood. He wrapped an arm around her waist, offering support. “Outside. Can you walk?”
She tried, letting him half guide, half drag her from the pew.
Gawking heads turned in their direction, but not even an earthquake could deter Father Simmons. He reached his climax with thunderous gusto. “Verily I say unto you, ‘Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child, he shall not enter therein.’”
Margot’s legs buckled. Her vision began to tunnel. She was going down. Here. In public.
Again.
Memories of shocked gasps and nervous laughter filled her ears. The church fell suddenly away, and she was back in a Louisville ballroom.Wearing a white crepe Georgette gown and satin gloves pulled up to her elbows. A debutante set to make her debut.
Ready or not.
“The Texas Dip,”her dead mother had hissed. Nineteen-year-old Margaret Greenbrier stumbled on wobbling legs. Alone, her mother buried barely a year ago. Ready or not…
She wasn’t ready. They’d delayed a year for mourning, and even still, she wasn’t ready.
She was lost. She was abandoned. She wasdistressed.
Margaret had begun to laugh. Hysterically. Her heart pounded, fierce enough to tear free from her chest and fly far away. It did. It had. Her heart had been wrenched free so many years ago, and Margaret was but a shell of herself, alone in a society ballroom in crepe Georgette.
Faces in the crowd blurred, jaws open, hands at shocked mouths while Margaret Greenbrier spun in the middle of the ballroom, arms out, crazed laughter bubbling free. She spun herself straight into a perfect Texas Dip. And after she rose on trembling knees, her eyes rolled back and she fainted.
At nineteen years old, she’d already lost so much.
But that was the day Margaret Greenbrier truly lost everything.
“My wife…Yes, she’s well over two months along.” Merrick’s distressed voice floated overhead. “Yes, with child.”
“Merrick?” She reached for his hand, eyes still shut.
“I’m right here, love.”
