Reuniting Lady Marguerite

by Lydia Pembroke

  Elliott nodded. “Right away, Grandmama.”

  Margaret frowned, as the young gentleman left the room. “I do not understand, my Lady. Who is Marguerite? There was no girl by that name at the convent, not that I can recall. Although, so many died during the winter months, that it was difficult to keep count.”

  The Dowager wheezed as tears fell. “Oh, my dear girl. What have you endured, all these years?”

  “I still do not understand.”

  The Dowager pointed up towards a portrait on the wall. Margaret had not seen it until that moment, but she clamped her hand across her mouth as she looked at the young lady in the picture. It was like looking directly into a mirror, no distortions or alternate versions necessary. The woman resembled Margaret exactly, aside from a slight difference in the colour of her eyes.

  “The lady in that painting was my daughter-in-law. You look so very alike, my dear, and I have come to learn that these things are rarely coincidental,” the Dowager replied. “I must look into it further, but I have the most overwhelming feeling that you are Marguerite— the little girl in that picture, just to the right of your Mama. And if you are, then you have found your way back home, after so long.” She clutched Margaret’s hand as if she feared she might disappear, her expression so earnest that it took Margaret aback.

  “Me?” Margaret gasped. “No, that cannot be. I am nobody.”

  “If I am correct in my assumptions, you are not nobody. You are the eldest daughter of my son, and my dear, long-lost grandchild. The one I have been searching for, since my other grandchildren were brought back to me by the hand of providence.”

  “Oh, my Lady, you must not get your hopes up, for I am certain it cannot be so.”

  “On the contrary dear girl, I pray that I am right. I pray that you are she, and you have come back to us. And you are not Margaret, you are Marguerite. And I am your namesake, for deep within, I believe it to be so.”

  Margaret felt the world spinning around her, as black spots appeared in her line of sight. Her chest gripped tight in a vice, her breath coming in shallow rasps, her throat closing up. This was all too much to take in. I need fresh air. I need it, now. She tried to stand, but her legs gave way. She did not remember collapsing to the ground, as darkness slid across her eyelids, and captured her in its shadowed arms.

  Chapter Twelve

  Margaret looked up at the sound of a knock on the bedchamber door. The Dowager Countess had given her and Leopold a room each, though she did not remember being brought to this room, having collapsed in the library from the heat and the exhaustion and the overwhelming nature of their discussion. It had been three days since then, and she had settled into her new environment. Although, there had been no further mention of her being the missing Lady Marguerite. She was grateful for that, fearing that she might keel over again at the mere whisper of it.

  Her heart jumped, hoping it was Leopold. Instead, the Dowager Countess stepped into the room, a broad smile upon her thin lips. Margaret gave an awkward curtsey, as the old woman walked straight over to her and held her hands tightly.

  “Before I begin, I must tell you that I have spoken with the local constables, and they have chased those miscreants out of nearby Waterham, and out of the area entirely. If they return, they will face a trial for their attempted kidnap of you. Hopefully, that will be enough to keep them away,” she said softly.

  Relief washed over Margaret.

  “Oh, thank you, my Lady. You cannot know how glad I am to hear of that.”

  “However, there are more important matters to attend to. Matters that will see you protected, regardless.”

  Margaret frowned.

  “Oh?”

  “Elliott returned this morning, with news from Hexham. He has ridden day and night to return so soon, and deliver the good news,” she explained. “The nuns described the individual who left you at the convent, and it matches the description of the woman who stole you away from here. My acquaintance in London has also corroborated the information with the other accomplices in that terrible act. Thus, leading to the almost certain conclusion that you are Marguerite. I knew it the moment I saw your face, but I had to be sure.”

  “How can that be?”

  All of her life, she had been a nobody, coming from nowhere, with no name to tie her to anyone. And yet now, the Dowager Countess was telling her that she belonged to a dynasty— one with a tragic past, that was slowly healing. It hardly seemed real. Indeed, Margaret wondered if she had hit her head when she collapsed, for this had to be a dream of some kind.

  “You were stolen, and now you have been returned,” the Dowager replied.

  Margaret sank down on the window-seat, still clutching the Dowager’s hand.

  “This cannot be.”

  “It is, my dear child. It is. I would disbelieve it myself, had I not already been blessed with such miracles, when Elliott and Alice were brought back into my arms. Fate has brought you here, and I am grateful to the Lord for aiding in your safe return.”

  Tears filled the Dowager’s eyes, and Margaret found her own eyes were stinging, as she struggled to absorb the information.

  “This was my home?”

  “Is your home, my dear girl. It has been waiting for you, as we all have.” She smiled with bittersweet joy, for they had lost so much time, and yet gained more than either of them could ever have hoped for. “Elliott and Alice are awaiting you downstairs, to welcome you into the family. Mr. Fox is also there, and he wishes to offer his congratulations.”

  “I was taken?”

  She nodded.

  “You were.”

  “And left alone at the convent?”

  “Yes, my sweet child. I am sorry for that, with all of my heart. I am sorry for the life you have had to endure, through no fault of your own. But you will never want for anything again, and you will only sing if you want to,” she urged.

  “I am the daughter of an Earl?”

  She choked out the words, unable to swallow them.

  “An Earl who loved you very much. Your mother, too. You were the apple of her eye, sweet Marguerite, and there is nothing that they would not have done for you. They would be glad, if they were here now, for you have grown into a beautiful, resourceful young lady. And they would be relieved to know that you are safe, at last.”

  Margaret looked up into the Dowager’s tearful eyes.

  “So… I have a grandmother? And I have a brother and a sister?”

  She chuckled.

  “You do. They knew you were Marguerite the moment they saw you, too, but we had to have the evidence in place. There have been one too many charlatans over the years, and one can never be too careful.”

  “Margaret is very close to Marguerite, is it not?”

  Margaret smiled at the notion that, after all this time, her name had not been quite so far from the truth.

  At least she had been given that, when those wretches left her at the convent, after stealing her life away from her.

  “It is a most peculiar, and welcome truth,” the Dowager replied. “I have not been able to convince Elliott or Alice to change their names, to their true, given names of Charlotte and Arthur, but yours is almost the same. It will be easier for me to adapt to, I am certain.”

  “And your name is also Marguerite?”

  She nodded.

  “As you were the firstborn, my son thought it would be a kind gesture to give you my name. I was thankful then, and I am thankful now. Even if you remain Margaret, I will hear it and rejoice, for it means that this is real, and all my grandchildren have returned. I fervently wish I could have my son and my daughter-in-law back with us, but that is something no amount of searching can resolve.”

  “I am sorry that I shall never have the chance to meet them,” Margaret murmured. “Although, I have been dreaming more, of late. I do not know whether it is being in these surroundings, and remembering more of my days here, but the images have grown more insistent.”

  “They
have?”

  Margaret smiled shyly.

  “I saw a nursery, painted duck-egg blue, with a rocking horse in the corner. There was a crib, too, though it wasn’t for me. And, in a large chest, there were several dollies that I adored as if they were my own children. One had red hair, one had blonde hair, and one had brown hair. There was a stuffed bear, too, with ragged ears and a red, button nose.”

  The Dowager choked down a sob. “Yes… that was your nursery. You used to bring the dollies to me, whenever you wanted to play outside, so that I could feed them, and watch them in your absence. And that bear—my goodness, you would not sleep without it.”

  “I remember…”

  “Then, my sweet girl, let us hope that more of your memory returns, the longer you remain here.”

  Margaret paused in thought.

  “Has Mr. Fox spoken to you about his intentions towards me? Before, when I had no family, it seemed a rather simple procedure. But now… must he prove himself worthy, now that I am this, instead of simple Margaret Loxley?”

  She shook her head.

  “My only desire is to see my grandchildren happy.”

  Margaret’s face flooded with relief, prompting Lady Dunsmore to pat her hand affectionately.

  “I must confess that I have already permitted my other grandchildren to wed individuals who would be considered beneath their station, and it has altered my perspective on the institution. There is no use in wealth if there is no happiness to support it. If you love Mr. Fox, and you wish to marry him, then you may do so.” She smiled. “And yes, he has already spoken with me about the matter, and I have duly given him my permission.”

  “He is an Earl’s son, do you know?”

  The Dowager looked surprised.

  “He is?”

  “He has an elder brother, and two younger, the latter from his father’s remarriage. There was some upset due to Leopold’s choice of wife, long before he met me, and he has been removed from any inheritance for some time. But his heritage remains. As for Leopold’s former wife— she died, some years ago, though he has a daughter still. She is the most charming creature you could ever hope to meet.”

  “I have already had the pleasure, and I can confirm, she is a delight.” She chuckled. “I am eager to have these hallways filled with children once again, and Felicity will be welcome to play with my great-grandchildren.”

  Margaret felt her heart bursting with joy, and with love for the old lady. She rose slightly and slid her arms around Lady Dunsmore’s shoulders and hugged. Lady Dunsmore stifled a sob in her own throat.

  “There, there, girl. As it is, I believe that young Felicity is already enamoured with Lady Jane’s daughter - there would be no keeping them apart. And, we have reason to believe that there will soon be another, as Alice may well be with-child.”

  Margaret sank back down.

  “What happy news!”

  She had been told of the tale that had transpired between Elliott and his wife, Jane. She could hardly believe it was a true story, for it was filled with such danger and malice, that it had made her own hardships pale in comparison. She had yet to meet Jane and her daughter, as she had kept mostly to her room, but now she felt a renewed eagerness to discover every single person in this household. Now that she knew that she was a part of it, and it would not be taken away, she felt her fears drift into the ether. Here was her family, as curious and dysfunctional as any, and she could not wait to live out the rest of her days with them.

  The Dowager squeezed Margaret’s hand again.

  “Would you care to come downstairs?”

  Margaret nodded. “Very much so.” More than anything.

  After so long in the wilderness, she had found her way back to the people who loved her beyond all doubt and reason. Leopold, Felicity, her grandmother, her brother, her sister, her siblings-in-law. In the space of three days, she had gone from having nothing to having everything. And, whilst it still scared her somewhat, she was ready to face this new dawn with courage and contentment.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You look like an angel!” Felicity cried, as she ran amok in Margaret’s bedchamber. It was an exciting day indeed, and Margaret shared in the little girl’s enthusiasm.

  “As do you,” she replied, admiring Felicity in her frock of white silk and lace. It resembled her own, bridal, gown though it had been adorned with extra ribbons, at Felicity’s request. The lady’s maids had been fretting over the pair of them all morning, to prepare them for the upcoming nuptials. And now, all that was left to do was go to the church, where Leopold would be waiting.

  Margaret turned at the sight of her sister, who stood in the doorway. They had grown close in the three weeks that had passed since Margaret had arrived at Dunsmore House, securing Margaret’s comfort within this family of hers.

  “A rare vision,” Alice said.

  “I could say the same about you.” Margaret stood and walked over to her sister, the two women embracing. “How are you feeling today?”

  “Better.”

  Alice had been unwell in the last fortnight, thanks to the child growing within her. Her husband, Frederick, had been flapping about her like a mother hen, worried that she would become too poorly. Indeed, it had been Leopold who had convinced him to relax somewhat, for the sake of his wife and unborn child. Margaret had been glad of that, for she was pleased to see her future husband and her brother-in-law getting along so swimmingly.

  Elliott had also taken the opportunity to bond with Leopold, for the two men already knew each other from days gone by. As it turned out, Elliott, when still working as an architect, before his true birth had been discovered, had been the one to make the amendments to Leopold’s studio, removing the unnecessary walls so that Leopold could have the light he craved.

  “Are you sure that you are quite well enough to attend?”

  Alice chuckled. “I am quite well enough. If I have one more person ask me that, I fear I may take to my bed and never leave it, until this child is born.”

  “My apologies.”

  “You are the exception, for this is your wedding day. You have every right to be worried about the guests’ welfare. I remember my own wedding day, and how utterly frantic I was that everything should go smoothly.” Alice brushed a protective hand across her stomach, which had yet to show signs of pregnancy.

  “As long as Leopold is there, I shall be quite content.”

  Alice smiled. “Then you are a far more courageous bride than I. Although, I suppose you have all the encouragement you need from this one.” Felicity came running over and wrapped her arms about Alice’s waist.

  “Do you think the baby can hear me?” she wondered aloud.

  “I am certain of it,” Alice replied.

  “I suppose we ought to leave for the church,” Margaret said, glancing towards the clock on the mantelpiece. It was almost eleven, and she was due to be married on the hour. The church was not too far from Dunsmore House, and the carriages were already waiting to take Margaret and her entourage to the ceremony. Still, she did not wish to be late on such an important day.

  “No second thoughts?” Alice grinned.

  “None.” Margaret smiled back, her heart fluttering with happiness.

  Together, the ladies made their way downstairs and entered the waiting carriages, with the small convoy making its way towards the church without delay. Margaret looked out of the window and watched the landscape pass by. From the vantage point of the manor house, she could see far and wide. It thrilled her, to look upon the beautiful, verdant countryside, in all its shades of green and gold, and spy the quaint houses of Lower Nettlefold that lay in the expanse below. From here, she could just spot Leopold’s house, tucked away beside the sparkling river. The Dowager Countess and Elliott had invited Margaret to reside at Dunsmore House, with the rest of them, but she had yet to decide if she would take them up on their offer.

  She did so love that house by the river, and it suited her far better than the
grandeur of Dunsmore House. Nevertheless, she did not wish to disappoint her new family. Perhaps, there was a way that they could share their time between both, retreating to Leopold’s house when they desired some privacy, away from the manor.

  Besides, none of the logistics mattered in that moment. The only thing that mattered was the gentleman waiting for her at the altar of St. Mary’s.

  He was her future. She did not know how she had managed to be so fortunate, to have found him, quite by chance. Indeed, she was starting to wonder if she had been born beneath a luckier star than she had at first thought.

  After all of the tragedies her family had suffered, they all deserved to find happiness. And, as it happened, Margaret had finally found hers.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Leopold waited anxiously at the altar, his heart pounding in his chest. He was not nervous about marrying Margaret, he was simply nervous in case she did not show up. After all, she was no longer the simple Songbird that she had been when they met. Now, she was a great lady, the daughter of an Earl. He knew how these things could play out, and how young ladies could be foisted onto greater men, in the name of family wealth.

  The Southwells are not like your family – you know the Earl, you know that they would never do that to her. He had to keep reminding himself of that, for ruthless social climbing was all he had ever known, within his own heritage.

  It had come as quite the surprise to find that there could be reasonable individuals within a titled family. In truth, the Dowager had welcomed him into their family, even before he was to marry to Margaret, and before she knew anything at all of his own family and birth status.

  Elliott and Alice had also been quick to accept him, and they had endured a pleasant existence in recent weeks.

  Suddenly, the organ began to play, and the bride walked into the church. Leopold turned to look at her, his breath stolen away by her ethereal beauty. He could not see her face beneath her gauzy veil, but he did not need to. She always took his breath away, making him feel like the most fortunate gentleman in all the world, for she had chosen him.