Margery’s aunt, Claire, arranged for her to meet with Mr. and Mrs. Mason on the eve of the child’s seventh birthday. Her extensive knowledge of the literary world and her keen interest in the education of children ensured Margery a place with the Mason family for a twelvemonth. Within the following fortnight, Margery’s aunt and uncle assisted in her movement of belongings and self into the guest corridor of the Mason house which, she was told, had once belonged to her grandfather.
Once settled, Margery learned of her responsibilities to young Thomas and was given all information concerning her spare time, exercise and boundaries inside and outside the walls of the Mason household. Of her liberties she was given, she was to be allowed to spend four hours a day out of doors to do as she pleased within the bounds of the woods before reaching the main road from town. With no serious prospects to her name, Margery accepted these freedoms with open arms and took advantage whenever possible.
Her favorite pastime, once she became more comfortable living with the Mason family, was riding one of the family horses. Firefly was the name of one which she most often took out in her hours of leisure. Thomas was often up to some sort of trick to avoid getting his studying finished and it kept Margery on edge while she planned her lessons. The child never made things easy for her when he finally sat down at his desk to work with her. If it was not the need for something to eat, it was the sun shining too brightly in his small eyes to allow him to see what he was expected to be reading. And if not either of those things, the tantrums he often threw due to his parents’ absence were enough to make Margery insane.
But lessons passed and days went on and it was her evening rides on Firefly that kept her motivated each day to push through the tricky moments because there would be reward at the end of the day.
“Good morning my beautiful girl”, Margery cooed to the horse one sunny afternoon.
“Good morning Missus!”, Thomas cried as he ran out from behind the cowshed. Moving so quickly that Margery had no chance to stop him, the little tyke barrelled straight into the back leg of Daemon, the most obstinate and temperamental of the Mason’s horses.
“Thomas, get out of the way”, yelled Margery from across the barn, spinning to see what had happened. Daemon had reared up the moment Thomas had connected with him and was whinnying uncontrollably.
Running up the path leading to the house was Mr. Mason followed almost on heel by his wife who was in a complete fluster.
“Whoa Daemon, Whoa!” he hushed as Margery grasped Thomas to her bosom protecting his small head in her hands. The horse thrashed and guffawed for a few more moments and only ceased when Mrs. Mason came bustling into the barn after her husband with a handful of freshly plucked carrots from the garden.
“What the devil happened in here?” Mr. Mason demanded of the two on the ground. Margery rose, dusting off her apron and explained that she had simply knocked over a bucket and pick that was standing nearby which sent the horse into a tizzy. Thomas peeked up at her through squinted eyes which had been closed tightly as he expected Margery to tell his parents the truth about the horse.
“I’m sorry and I will clean up the barn immediately”, she concluded calmly, winking down at the lad hiding behind her skirts.
“See that you do”, said Mr. Mason “before your evening ride”, he added as he and his wife strode back to the house, young Thomas scuttling to catch up and smiling behind him as he went.
As well as Margery knew she should not have lied to her employers, she had developed a small soft spot for the child which she could not help but indulge in every once in a while. He did test her patience but she would not want to see him punished for something as mundane as setting off an already irrational beast such as Daemon.
Chapter 3
Margery did as she promised and there was enough sunlight remaining when she had completed the cleaning that her evening ride had not been lost to the tyranny of the child’s antics that afternoon. Reclaiming her spot beside Firefly, she gathered her mittens and hat, donning both with speed and alacrity, already anxious to get on the horse’s back. Once saddled, Margery kicked off on Firefly’s side and started off at a gallop, too ready to feel the wind in her hair after such a long day.
Riding Firefly was like a dream for Margery. It was a place for her to escape from teaching Thomas, from cleaning for Mrs. Mason, and from thinking about how lonely she had become since her father had died. Of course, Charlotte continued to visit with her even now that she had been staying with the Mason’s for the past few months. Every weekend she was allowed to visit her aunt and uncle down the road for a change of scenery from the same old walls of her grandfather’s old house. Charlotte would often have a place to stay at her aunt and uncle’s cottage as they understood the importance of friendship between ladies of their age. This weekend, Charlotte was bringing her brother Hugh along for the first time as he was back in town from London where he was training with the militia. Charlotte had informed Margery in a letter that her brother has been in hopes of finding a wife soon. His comrades were either engaged in courting young ladies in town or else had one waiting for them in their own villages which they called home.
Of course, Margery had not given much thought to marriage but she could not help but think that her companion may be hinting towards her own desire of seeing herself and Hugh together one day. Looking forward to this happy meeting, as Charlotte had always mentioned her brother with such tender love and respect, Margery picked up the pace and let the slowly fading sun glow on her face. As she grew older, her color shifted ever so slightly from a pale shade to one with a brighter hue than simple ivory. She glowed in sunlight and moonlight lit up her face and features in the most charming way imaginable. Her hair had also darkened with tints of auburn which would catch the rays of the sun on an evening such as this. She glanced up at the sky which she could only see through the holes in between the foliage of the thick trees which surrounded her.
Being thus distracted by the beauty of the evening and the richness of the forest she had not noticed the sound of trotting horse shoes gaining on her from the east.
“Hello there”, called a deep and friendly voice, rich with good manners and the evidence of a wealthy family.
Jerking the reins back to prevent herself from falling, Margery pulled Firefly to a stop and looked to see who the intruder was. Stopping just shy of the horse beside her, Margery came face to face with a man with the most agreeable features she had ever seen. He had dark red hair which fell neatly to one side of his face, shading his eyes to make him look all the more mysterious. His jaw line was proud and prominent with the sense of an impending beard lurking somewhere beneath the surface. A gently pointed nose that was straight and small led back up to those eyes. They looked dark to her at first but as she saw his head move from one side to the other and the light entered them, she found herself quite lost in them. The sun looked as if it had locked itself in behind them and was shining through the sparkles like it shone through the holes of the foliage above. She realised that she must have been staring because the stranger spoke to her as if answering a question her eyes had obviously asked.
“Avery Navarre, ma’am”, he said graciously as Margery caught her breath and made sure to blink a couple of times.
“Margery Fairchild”, she sauntered closer and reached a hand out which he took graciously and kissed.
Her heart fluttered at this and she had to look at the ground to prevent herself from getting lost once more. He pretended not to notice.
“Pleased, I am sure”, he said, taking in her delicate frame with interest. Now he felt as if he were the one staring and so he spoke again. “But may I ask why you are riding alone on such an evening as this?” he asked.
Blushing in the fading sunlight Margery replied, “I like to ride alone; it gives one time to reflect on the day’s events”. She smiled sweetly and looked away as the pair rode slowly side by side.
“I hope the day’s events were pleasing to you Miss
Fairchild”, he offered in a reserved tone.
“Actually on the contrary, I had a horrid morning followed by an even more unpleasant afternoon”, she smirked in his direction.
“Whatever has made you so negative on the day Miss?” he pondered, wanting to know more about the mysterious woman riding alone at nearly nightfall.
“If you must know Mr. Navarre, I am a governess and my pupil was in a right state of mischief all day today and I have only just gotten away from the house”, she retorted.
“Ah”, he sighed with relief. “For a moment I thought your terrible day had been made worse this afternoon by the meeting and interruption of a strange gentleman on your evening ride in the forest”.
She giggled at this and questioned him back, “What is your purpose for interrupting me so, Mr. Navarre?”. She continued to gaze upon him for a moment as he had truly a very attractive figure, tall and not overly muscled. His eyes continued to give off a magical sparkle even in the final rays of sunshine, and his smile made her nervous to speak.
“It is Duke Navarre actually, and I am off to visit with my estranged cousin South of Shropshire for the week and decided to ride ahead of the carriage which will bring my personal belongings tomorrow”, he explained. “I enjoy riding alone in the sunlight. It is one of those rare times I get to spend with myself without the dealings of Dukedom at hand”.
“Oh, I’m sorry Your Grace...”, Margery began to apologize for not addressing him properly before the Duke cut her off.
“Do not apologize to me dear lady, you could not possibly have known my history nor I yours, but now that we do shall we agree to speak to each other in more civil terms, Miss Fairchild?” He flashed a smile at her which she had no choice but to acknowledge.
“Yes, of course Mr. Navarre, that’s very kind of you”, she responded.
“I don’t mean to keep you distracted, I must be off, the road to the Mason’s is just a mile onwards if I am correct in my estimations, let us see who may reach the house first”, he teased.
“You don’t mean to race me home do you, Mr. Navarre?” she quizzed.
“Oh I most certainly do, Miss Fairchild. I happened to notice how quickly you rode on your poor pony before I caught up to you just now but I must say it was only too easy. What do you say?” he challenged.
“If I say yes you must promise not to be too disappointed by being beaten by a young woman of such a slight stature as myself”, she winked at him and nudged Firefly in the sides charging for the Mason estate without any warning.
The Duke was close on her tail within an instant but her slight head start had been too much for his horse to catch up to, not to mention her slight person was much lighter than he was.
“Good night Your Grace”, she called from her side of the road. “Thank you for the thrilling race, perhaps we shall meet again soon”, she added and led Firefly into the barn. Avery Navarre stared after her, breathless, until he saw she had safely arrived in her bedroom where a small candle flickered to light.
Upon retiring, Margery recalled the meeting with Duke Navarre and looked forward to her soon to be first encounter in weeks with her bosom friend and her brother. As attractive as she found the Duke to be, she knew a woman of such small fortune as her own could never hope to attain the attraction of a man of the Duke’s standing in society.
Chapter 4
Margery awoke early the next morning not from her own intentions to be at her aunt and uncle’s cottage before Charlotte and her brother arrived, but because Thomas had decided his breakfast was not up to his standards. Her room, although at the opposite end of the hall from the kitchen, had been close enough for her to hear the shattering of plates and bowls shortly after sunrise.
She dressed quickly and prepared for the worst as she headed down the hall for the kitchen.
“Good morning all”, she greeted the family once she was dressed and in view of the mess. So far the porridge bowl had been dropped from the table to the floor with its contents spilled in a wide circle around the child’s seat. Beyond that the milk container had been turned upside down onto the table where Thomas was crying audibly.
“Good morning my dear”, exclaimed Mr. Mason with panic on his face. “Do not let this disaster trouble your visit to your aunt’s. It is, as you know, nothing we cannot handle before midday. I trust you had an enjoyable ride last evening, we didn’t hear you come in”, he continued.
Smiling to herself remembering her run in with the Duke, she replied, “Yes, it was quite lovely in the cool evening air. I will return for tea this evening, I assure you”.
“That’s alright dear”, he began again, “Only be sure to keep yourself safe on the way home. Take Firefly, he has grown more than accustomed to you”.
“I will”, she thanked him kindly and hurried to the barn to fetch Firefly as Thomas screamed behind her, “Where you going Missus?” But his mother hushed him as Margery narrowly escaped the next tantrum of the day.
The sun was rising steadily as Margery came upon the cottage where her aunt and uncle Firth were waiting on the lawn. It was a stout little thing but it had always met the needs of her aunt and uncle Firth who rarely kept company and, when they did, it never exceeded two or three of their closest friends.
“Dear Margery, how you’ve begun to show your womanly figure”, her aunt Claire blurted out admiringly as she pulled her niece in for a hug. It was true that although thin and short in height, Margery’s hips had begun a slight curve outwards while her waist remained as narrow as ever.
“It’s good to see you, too, aunt. I trust you have kept uncle from being too active these past few weeks”, Margery inquired.
“You know your uncle dear, he is just the same way your father had always been, always doing more work than his age ought to permit him”, her aunt went on.
Just then, her uncle William came round the corner of the cottage covered head to toe in dirt.
“Ah, you are here early my dear child”, he greeted her. “I have just been out tending to the garden and the vegetables of the season”, he explained of himself before his wife could accost him for the state of his clothing. “You are always eager to be here on weekends when Charlotte is expected and I suppose her brother’s accompaniment must be reason for your arrival being even earlier than usual my dear?” he asked, winking at his niece.
The three went into the house together and into the den where the family cat, George, climbed up onto Margery’s lap and fell instantly asleep as she stroked his head lightly, preventing her from moving very far. Claire prepared tea and biscuits for the arrival of their new guests while William tended to the tidying of the den before he was ushered out and ordered to change into something more suitable to be seen in front of new friends. Before long, Margery resorted to looking out of the window for any sign that her dearest friend might be on her way. Finally, with tea pots and dishes in place, a small fire lit to ensure all were to be comfortable, and George safely off the lap of his head scratcher, a small carriage not suitable for any more than two or three people, pulled up in front of the house.
“Oh, Auntie! It is Charlotte! They are here!” exclaimed Margery with the utmost joy and anticipation. She all but bounced off of her seat and out the door to greet her friend.
“Charlotte!” Margery cried as the rickety door on the side of the carriage swung open revealing her blonde companion. Charlotte was in many ways quite opposite to Margery. She had very long blonde hair which fell straight as a pin if her ladies maids did nothing to give it some extra bounce and curl. For a woman, she was rather tall and came at least six inches above where Margery stood with a curvaceous frame that was more than flattering.
Immediately behind her, a man whom Margery had never seen before but without a doubt could tell to be her old governess’ brother, stepped down from the carriage and handed his sister her chapeau. In appearance, he was very similar to Charlotte. He had blond hair as well which had a bit of a wave to it that fell just beyond his temples and hi
s eyes were the color of glass that had been tossed about at sea.
He stepped down from the carriage gracefully. “You must be Margery”, he said politely, reaching for her hand to kiss. “I have heard so much about you”.
Breathless, Margery replied “I am, it is very nice to finally be able to make your acquaintance”...she trailed.
“Hugh” he concluded. “I must say that my sister’s description of you falls quite short in comparison to the real you”, he added with charm and flattery.
“Yes, right”, stammered a nervous Margery, “You’re Charlotte’s brother come from training in London. I suppose none of us are ever really able to do justice to the real life version of someone. Please come in, my aunt has prepared us tea.”
She turned on her heel to hide her face and led the pair inside, and her uncle tended to the horses and their care for the day. Never had Margery seen a man as handsome and tall as Hugh before and he had taken her quite by surprise. For the first time in her young adult life, Margery contemplated what it meant to be in love and if it would ever happen to her, perhaps with this gentleman as her friend had hoped, it would happen.
The afternoon passed in pleasant conversation with Charlotte and in getting to know in more depth, her handsome brother. Hugh had been training with the militia for several months now and was on leave for the following fortnight. During this leave, he would be staying with Charlotte in her small village near the Shire. This would mean visits and balls and time spent in town with the siblings for Margery, and she could hardly contain her excitement.
“What is it you do, Miss Fairchild? My sister only ever talks about how wonderful you are but never has she told me your means of employment”, Hugh had asked her when her attention was depriving him.
Historical Hearts Romance Collection Page 16