Page 48 of Much Ado About Margaret
“We arrived at the idea together,” Ruby murmured. “He because Lane Richmond refused him another loan, and I because I wanted to feel for one moment like the charmed woman of the evening! And I did feel it, but then…then it was horrible, but I was too afraid to say anything.”
Maggie nodded. “Mrs. Richmond is a formidable woman.”
“Even if I see my error, it is still unfair! Almost from the moment he arrived at Pressmore, Paul singled me out as the object of his affection. We spent the evening before Ann’s wedding together. We paraded through the gardens, and he kissed my hands, and it felt like a dream to be chosen. I’m sure it sounds silly to fall in love so quickly, in just an evening, but I swear it happened! I always had a heart ready to blossom, it just wanted for nourishing love.” She picked up a twig blown into the cart and began to snap it into smaller and smaller pieces. “Oh, but it isn’t fair, why can you have a Mr. Darrow and I cannot?”
Maggie stiffened and blanched.
“Iheardyou last night.”
“My Mr. Darrow is not galivanting across the whole of England like a wild stallion pursuing every available mare,” said Maggie. She fussed nervously with the toggles on her spencer. If Ruby tattled, she would be in even bigger trouble than she already was.
All morning, to keep from missing Bridger too miserably, she had rehearsed the story she would tell Aunt Eliza.Mr. Darrow and I were enjoying a chaste discussion ofPride and Prejudicewhen we noticed a cloaked figure running from Ann’s stunning new Grecian temple. We followed, of course, eager to clear Ann’s name, and found ourselves lost in the storm. By sheer chance and good fortune, we stumbled upon Ruby and Paul Darrow at the church. The weather did not permit our immediate return, but Mr.Corner was good enough to let us stay in the parsonage until we could return to Pressmore quite obviously heroes beyond reproach.
It could use a few revisions.
“In fact,” Maggie barged on, “my Mr. Darrow did not need Lane to intercede on his behalf with a young lady’s family in Bath. Nor is he a drunk. Nor is he kissing masked ladies on a balcony intending to cause a scandal!”
“No,” whispered Ruby, smirking. “He is only kissing ladies in the good vicar’s rectory.”
“Lower your voice,” she hissed, mindful of Foster. She continued in a ferocious whisper. “Remember, Ruby, that we are the keepers of each other’s secrets. I will not breathe a word about your questionable behavior if you do not tattle about mine.”
She at least had the good grace to hang her head. “I will make my apologies to Ann.”
“See that you do, unless she has already been turned out of the house.”
It was a bleak possibility. The cart diverted before the maze and temple, turning left onto a small road running along the property, between hedges, curving toward the Pressmore stables. Farther on, they turned left again and joined the main drive, Foster taking them right to the front doors of the estate. The house spread out before them, breathtaking as always, perhaps more so draped in pretty mist, the pale sandstone confection almost overrun in places with climbing hydrangea and clematis, the leaves of which glittered with the previous night’s rain. They must have been spotted far out, for an entire welcoming party swept out onto the paving stones and met the cart as Foster brought it around.
Foremost among them was Aunt Eliza, taller than the rest by virtue of her colossal feathered bonnet, lending her the quality of the toughest hen in the flock.
“Oh, you are alive! We feared you were swept away in the storm!” cried Winny. She and Violet all but ripped Maggie out of the wagon before the footmen could help.
Maggie embraced her sisters, tears springing to her eyes. They squeezed her so tight, and she felt their tremulous fear.
“Never make us worry like that again!” Violet muttered, elbowing her when they pulled apart. “At best, I hoped you had gone off to be a pirate. But then, of course, there are highwaymen, and I did not want to consider that. Where is Mr. Darrow? For he is missing also.”
“I promise, all will be explained,” said Maggie, seeking out Ruby as she slid out of the cart. “And I do mean all. Come, ’tis time Ruby shed light on this scandal and its true participants. Ann’s name will be restored, and any doubts about her character erased.”
Her aunts waded to the front of the crowd. “We shall see about that,” said Mrs. Richmond, sweeping her eyes up and down Maggie’s soiled, torn, bloodied gown and jacket. Lane met them in the foyer, flying down the grand stairs, cheeks flushed with excitement.
“Cousin! What a comfort it is to have you back safely. I am saddened to say that the report from Madigan is less relieving, for he has bled Ann repeatedly and seen no improvement.”
“What we have to tell will cheer her, I’m certain of it,” Maggie told him. She broke away from her sisters and aunt, tugging Lane aside, into the shadows cast by the stairs. “Mr. Darrow has found his brother and taken him back to their family estate. He has promised to return within three days’ time, and I know he would not want you to worry on his account.”
Lane hoisted a brow. “Has something occurred that would make you the authority on his desires?”
Maggie was dragged away to the sunny southeast parlor before she could provide an answer. It was a swirling morass of questions that moved through the house, Ruby at the center of it and growing smaller and more shrunken by the minute, no doubt dread overcoming her as she anticipated the conversation to come. And she was right to fret. Upon reaching the parlor, all were dismissed except Lane, Maggie, her aunts, andRuby. Maggie stood near the young lady for encouragement while Ruby tripped and sniffled her way through the full accounting, from Mr. Darrow’s arrival at Pressmore, his imposing, swift courtship, the plan they concocted to both embarrass the marrying couple and then escape for their own secret wedding. When Ruby faltered under the withering gaze of Mrs. Richmond, Maggie gently touched her shoulder and whispered, “Courage, Ruby. Courage.”
The interrogation lasted long into the afternoon, and Ruby was made to stand and answer questions until everyone was satisfied. Lane said little though his face communicated much; he was heartbroken and confused and had difficulty even glancing at Ruby.
“The ladies must be hungry and exhausted,” said Lane, intervening when it seemed the questioning would never end. Ruby extended a grateful look, but Lane didn’t see it. “Let us adjourn for tea and share with Ann the tremendous news that she is as blameless as we all knew.”
Slight emphasis onall,to which Maggie’s aunts stiffened.
Lane held Maggie back as the others left the parlor. They stood in the square glow of an unshielded window, the happy heads of climbing flowers bobbing against the edges of the glass. A dark ribbon of clouds extended across the horizon, but the view down to the pond was otherwise clear, bittersweet with the promise of rain to come. Lane gathered up her right hand in his, a film of tears over his eyes.
“You never wavered,” he murmured, almost hiccupping with emotion. “You were our champion, and without your persistence, and Bridger’s, our fledgling marriage might have fallen from the nest and shattered. Blazes, you tackled a man with a pistol! Bandaging wounds and solving mysteries, you are just like your own intrepid characters, dear cousin. And you have done it all at great personal cost, for I know well the fury my mother is capable of—she and Aunt Eliza were horrified at your absence.”
“There is nothing to be done about it now,” said Maggie. “Come, we must go to Ann. It will not be easy for her to hear the truth.”
