They stood before the Wyndham Inn in Salisbury under a waning evening light. The street was quiet, and the murmurs of carriages and faraway conversations carried on the air towardthem. She met his eyes confidently, taking the arm he extended as they proceeded into the inn.
“He is my father, and we must talk honestly,” she murmured. “After the negotiations of today, I will never have to see him again.”
Inside, the inn smelled of smoke and polished wood. They walked into the taproom, where the arrival of the duke drew immediate attention. The innkeeper escorted them promptly into a private parlor before excitedly asking about the reasons for their visit. Margaret’s eyes drifted as they spoke, landing on two familiar silhouettes sitting at a small table by the fire in the otherwise empty room: her father, shoulders slumped, as he spoke with her mother beside him.
Margaret quietly signaled her departure to Alexander, crossing to her parents with her reticule clutched tightly against her body. Her mother noticed her first, mouth hanging open as she shot out of her seat. Margaret nodded at her father, who was staring past her at her approaching husband. When she looked back, the innkeeper was gone, the door closed behind him.
“What has caused this sudden visit?” her father asked.
“You know what,” Margaret replied. “I had thought you would be in your rooms, but... Well, this is much better. We have come to speak with you. Both of you.”
Alexander did not bow as he approached, maintaining a formal distance.
“Will you not sit?” Katherine asked, gesturing to the now free chairs and bringing around two new ones. “We could call for drinks. The staff here is quite accommodating.”
More platitudes. Did her mother ever have an honest word to say? Margaret eyed the coral beads around her mother’s neck. “That will not be necessary. We are not staying long. We mean to discuss your future... You cannot remain here at the inn for all time.”
“Of course not. But you sound so very serious, Margaret,” Katherine said. “We are your parents. We aim to reach a happy conclusion for all of us. And tell me about Eliza—tell me how she is getting on.”
“Better than ever, by my estimation. It is truly surprising how a child’s development is influenced by their environment. She is shining at Somerstead Hall. Does it please you to know that?”
“We would never deny Eliza her happiness,” William said. “Nor you, Margaret. Whatever you have come to say, know that we will listen with open minds and hearts.”
Margaret felt Alexander settle beside her. They had spoken long into the night the day prior, discussing how best to move forward with Margaret’s parents. She had never admired Alexander so much as in those moments, when he had inclined his head gently down to her and swore to ensure her safety, when he had kissed her cheek, by the ear, and promised to protect her.
“Because much is owed to you,” her father continued, cutting through her thoughts. “Chief of all, an overdue apology. It was not right, my descending out of thin air upon your home. I see that now and would beg your forgiveness.”
Margaret scrunched her nose at her father’s newfound politeness. Those were Katherine’s planted words.
“Now is not the time for apologies,” Alexander said. “What has happened will remain in the past and not be discussed further.”
“And I fear there is nothing that could be said that would change my feelings toward you anyway,” Margaret added quietly.
“Feelings which are dark indeed,” her father murmured.
Katherine intervened. “Now, now. There is no need to speak with so much hostility, such permanence.”
“I am afraid that there is, My Lady,” Alexander injected. “It is precisely his lordship’s impermanence which has brought your daughters such grief. We have come today with terms—an arrangement which should prove suitable to all.”
William looked mistrustful, the shrewd businessman still alive within him despite his ruin. He nodded for Alexander to continue.
"My terms are clear and fixed. I have privileges concerning the mine we still share down by Mere. I am prepared to cede fulllegal rights to you—ownership and profits for as long as you live—provided you promise to maintain your place outside of society, to disappear further into obscurity than you already have, in Northumberland, or otherwise. The Viscount Pembroke should remain lost to all, excepting whomever you take into your company where you decide to settle. Thetonmay come to learn of your survival, but they will never receive you again in this flesh. We will have our realm, and you will have yours.”
Margaret watched her parents stiffen. The fire flickered over her father’s face, while her mother’s cheeks turned white.
“These are austere terms,” William replied, audibly swallowing.
Alexander responded earnestly: “Yet necessary. I have determined the mine is the surest and quickest way to obtain your financial freedom from your many debtors. The allowance I have so far permitted Lady Pembroke will be interrupted, naturally, knowing the quarry shall sustain you forevermore. Margaret and I will not entertain further entanglement with you. Your reconciliation, your survival, will not concern us past the point of your agreement.”
“But condemning us to a small country life...” Katherine pinched her lips. “You are asking us to forfeit our titles in all but name.”
“They are of no use to you any longer,” Alexander said, his cold efficiency impressing Margaret. “The Pembroke title has been besmirched beyond salvage. If you are inclined to bear the name of disgrace, that is your decision alone. I ask only that you existfar from us, not in Salisbury nor London, nor anywhere else that would draw attention.”
Margaret found her voice. “This means your independence. It means no more debts, no more creditors at your door. You said you returned to make things right. This is the only way.”
“It is a heavy sentence,” Katherine cried. “The end of everything we know.”
“Do you really believe thetonwill accept Father into their midst again?” Margaret asked. “Not without help from His Grace and me. But that is not the help we are willing to give. You have asked much of me already, to say nothing of your lies. It isyourturn to make amends.”
