Mary barely shook her head. If Margaret hadn’t been her friend of ten plus years, she wouldn’t have been able to discern the movement and the all encompassing dread that was permeating Mary’s body.
“Our mother’s have decided that this is the last season before they want us to settle down and have us both enter into marriages. Isn’t it grand?”
Mary sat stoic. She didn’t blink. She barely breathed. Even her palms decided this was not the best time to continue producing more sweat.
Maybe for Margaret this was a good thing. She was the beautiful, carefree, glimmering goddess. She had everything together at all times. Or if she didn’t she knew who to ask to make it so. Margaret had men proposing every season, but had so far refused every proposal waiting for true love. True love for Margaret would likely fall from the sky the second she decided she was ready for it.
But for Mary, no, this was not a good thing. What happened to, we trust you? What happened to, follow your heart? She supposed that, two is better than one, outgrew the other platitudes.
But I have two, I have Margaret, she justified to herself. Now was the time for Mary to find herself, overcome her weakness. She was going to be bold and beautiful for herself, not to find a husband. Partially under the inspiration of Aphra Behn, she had ambitions to write and act in her own play. The acting part would be hard. Hell, the writing part would be hard, but the acting would be terrifying.
Her body trembled internally at the memory that made it terrifying. Mary and Margaret could often have been found reenacting one of her plays and dragging the two older boys into them. But one memory in particular shook her to her core.
She was eighteen. Mary and Margaret were prancing around the empty ballroom in the middle of the day on a rare afternoon free of calls and errands. The two women were waltzing around the ballroom with invisible partners yet highly visible grins.
Gregory was almost never home those last few months since the news that Jonathan had gone missing. Chatsworth had been unusually gloomy, the atmosphere heavy and draining. The two young women had decided to lighten the mood with a play in which the couple fell in love and lived happily ever after.
“What is this?” Acting, Mary feigned surprise with wide eyes and a backhand resting lightly on her forehead as if about to faint. “Down on one knee? In front of everyone? But what will they say?”
Margaret abandoned her invisible partner and slid down on one knee. “And this is where he says, ‘It has always been you, with your keen mind, courageous soul, and kind heart. I can’t believe it took me this long to see you. To love you. But now, in front of all these people I shall declare my undying love and seal it with a kiss.”
The two young women giggled as Margaret stood and they bussed the air beside each other’s cheeks.
“Bravo,” said a sardonic voice from the main doors. “Faultless acting. Incomparable dancing. And of course entirely realistic.”
“What are you doing here?” Mary managed a smile.
“Why, I’m here to be entertained! Can’t you tell?”
“Well, perhaps you remember this play then? You have likely acted in–”
“Yes of course. It’s the one where they all fall in love isn’t it?”
“That’s right–”
“I mean, aren’t all your plays the same? Don’t they always fall in love?”
Despite the growing sense of embarrassment, Mary managed to keep her face light. To keep her face light increased in difficulty in direct correlation to each menacing step Gregory took toward her in a stalking fashion.
“They’re all the same. You’re all the same. Except you’re not as good of an actress as Leticia.”
For some inexplicable reason, Gregory was openly referring to his mistress. It was generally accepted that men could have a mistress if they were discrete about such sensitive topics. Explicitly acknowledging them in front of one’s sister and her friend was not considered discrete.
Mary fumbled word words wanting to challenge him, yet struggling with years and years of indoctrination. It was not permissible for Mary to mention his mistress, but she wanted to stand up for herself, “Leticia? Your m–mi–”
“Yes, of course, her. But we don’t speak of such improprieties here. Suffice to say, should you like lessons, I can arrange them for you.”
And that was the moment Mary fell out of love with him.
She was beyond bewildered. Beyond embarrassed. Beyond comprehending. And then she smelled the whiskey.
“Are you–”
“Hell and damnation, Gregory.” Margaret jumped between Gregory and Mary. A fierce protector. A warrior. “How cruel you are. You’re six sheets to the wind already. We will not stand for your impetuousness. Get the hell out of here until you remember how to treat a lady.”
“A lady? With that language.”
Margaret growled at her brother. “Get out!”
