Page 28 of Much Ado About Margaret
Mr. Darrow leaned down and lightly tapped the keyhole near the handle.
“You’re shorter,” he whispered.
Maggie swallowed her tart response, the voices from before moving closer. Whoever had crept into the library behind them followed their same path through the shelves and cases, arriving near the window alcove to speak in low voices. Close as they were, Maggie wondered if Mr. Darrow could feel her pulse hammering against her breastbone; she was certain they were about to learn the identity of their mystery balcony lady.
“I’ve told Bloom to have the house searched for that detestable Mr. Darrow.” It was Aunt Mildred speaking, her voice dripping with venom. Bloom served as steward of the household, overseeing the staff. He was ancient; Maggie couldn’t remember Pressmore without him. “My son is convinced he’s seducing every woman in the house and leading them astray.”
“Every woman except Ann,” and this was said by her other aunt, Eliza.
“Oh, he will never speak a word against Ann.”
“Nor should we, sister, if she is truly ill…” Aunt Eliza trailed off, sighing.
Maggie scrunched down toward the keyhole, trying to catch a glimpse of the women.
“We will know all about that soon enough; Bloom has sent a boy for the physician, and likely he will arrive by dawn,” Mrs. Richmond told her. They were both draped in shawls and AuntMildred in particular looked miserably tired. She sat on the bench at the window and gazed out at the darkened grounds. “I can’t help but think it is a fiction concocted by our niece. Like my son, she is utterly devoted to Ann.”
“Kindred spirits, I think,” said Eliza. “They are both hopelessly wild.”
Aunt Mildred shook her head. “I tried, you know, to persuade him against it.”
“Of course, sister, of course.”
“But it seems our family is doomed, saddled with foolish, obstinate children—at least where marriage and the vital choices of life are concerned.” She glanced around the library as if distracted and Maggie held her breath. Did she sense them there? Seemingly not, for Aunt Mildred rose and disappeared from her view, then returned a moment later with a glass of brandy. She took up her place on the bench and downed the drink.
“Sister,” Eliza chided.
“What? Oh, save your judgment, Eliza, it is only you and I.”
“I see. If I am not allowed to judge, then I suppose I must join you.” And Aunt Eliza did exactly that, going to pour her own generous amount of brandy. The two women shared a dry, long-suffering laugh as they reconvened on the plush bench. “Perhaps when the staff conclude their search, Bloom can have someone scrounge up Miss Margaret, who has conveniently vanished since proclaiming Ann’s condition.”
“Just like Emmeline,” said Aunt Mildred in a bleak wheeze. “Worse.”
“That remains to be seen.” For a brief, uplifting beat Maggie thought Eliza might just stick up for her. “I think Mr. Gibson will have her if he can be persuaded to forget this ridiculous notion of New South Wales. Have you seen his home at Winnowick? Expansive.”
Aunt Mildred cackled and went to refill her brandy.
Eliza tapped her finger thoughtfully on the rim of her cup,brow creased in concentration. “And it will be up to us to see that she does not squander her charms on the Darrow boy. I spied them together this evening and there was a familiarity and ease to her posture I did not like. It is only a passing infatuation, I think, and all because of her novel. Her novel! Her novel! Well. We will put a stop to all of that, won’t we?”
“Did you see her fingernails? Stained black with ink. Emmeline should have done something years ago,” agreed Mildred, returning. “There were indications.”
“It is a favor we do Margaret, lest she fracture the family further.”
Mildred swanned down onto the cushions and made a weird, strangled sound. “Sometimes I have a mind to forgive Emmy.”
“No, sister, no. You mustn’t. Any softness now will only encourage Margaret, lead her to believe this behavior of hers is tolerable. Do not forget—it is my cottage they occupy, my goodwill they exploit, my money spent while the girl wastes her youth and beauty on nonsense. I have a mind to withdraw it all, all that charity, and see how smart Miss Margaret believes herself to be then.” Eliza snorted down into her cup.
“Too harsh, sister. It is not her doing, after all, these far-fetched dreams. Emmy never put her foot down and the father was too permissive. She is a clever young lady, just a weed grown unmanaged; I have a mind to invite her to stay on at Pressmore so that she might be trimmed back and tamed. A vine without a stake grows unchecked.” Aunt Mildred rose elegantly, contemplated the last of her brandy, swallowed it on a shudder, and finished, “We must all compromise eventually. I have faith in us, faith that we will right the wrongs of the mother.”
They continued to converse, the topic moving back to Ann’s alleged illness and Lane’s worry, and when it was clear they were no longer in the library itself, Maggie slumped forward against the cupboard door, her face on fire. It was gettinghot in the cramped cupboard, and she had almost forgotten Mr. Darrow was there.
“The wrongs of the mother,” she murmured aloud, squeezing her eyes shut. “And yet her great misdeed was marrying Papa.”
A gentle hand touched her back and Maggie jumped, remembering the man squished in beside her.
“It’s never easy to endure such things,” Mr. Darrow said. There was a tight rage to his voice that she couldn’t quite interpret. “And overheard, no less. My father had the decency to say it to my face.”
“Decency or cruelty?” she asked, exhausted. Exhausted, overheated, and in desperate need of a private sob. Mr. Darrow was quiet. She felt him breathing against her, and it was comforting. Steady. He wasn’t clamoring to get out. And why not? Her aunts had just made it abundantly obvious that she was the embarrassment of the family, a broken doll that must be swiftly fixed and lined up for marriage like every other girl of her age. Maggie found the strength to stand, shaky. “I think I shall stay in this cupboard forever.”
