"Margret!"

Margret almost jumped in surprise, which would have been disastrous, as it would have revealed her hiding place.

"Margret, where are you? You'll be late for your fitting!"

She gritted her teeth and climbed higher into the tree, careful not to shake the branches.

"There she is! Up in that tree, good Lord! She'll break her neck like that!"

The groan that emitted from within the leafy canopy verified the new speaker's sighting.

Captain Margret Dashwood had been discovered.

Her mother helped her descend the last few feet of tree, and then tried to brush her down. "Margret! Why are you all wet?"

"Um, no reason, mother."

"Margret Dashwood, you tell me this instant why you are completely soaked."

"I-fell-in-the-pond-again." She said quickly, hoping Mrs. Dashwood wouldn't be able to understand her.

Unfortunately, she did. "How many times have I told you not to go near that filthy water? When will you ever listen? How are we going to make you into a proper lady when you go dashing about and jumping into lakes like a boy?"

Margret grumbled, "It was a pond, not a lake. And I didn't jump in; I fell when that carriage went by."

Instantly she knew she should have kept quiet.

"A carriage? You mean someone saw you? Oh, dear Lord, I hope it wasn't anyone we know! Oh, how silly of me, we only know two families who own a carriage."

Captain Margret went obediently into the house with her mother, listening to her fuss about ladylike manners and wet dresses, though her mind was off somewhere in Cambodia, fighting bandits and finding treasure.

She was jolted back to reality when Mrs. Dashwood said, "…I do hope you won't behave so when we are in London, people there aren't as understanding about these things, you know. I rather think they would look down on—,"

"London? Are we going next spring?" Margret interrupted.

"No, my dear, I told you last Sunday that we are to go to London with Mrs. Jennings in one fortnight. You are to have your début, as it is well past Easter."

Mrs. Dashwood had indeed told her daughter all this the Sunday before, but Margret had not been listening, for she had been busy charming a snake in India. Snakes are awfully testy and not at all charming themselves, and as brave Captain Margret had had to concentrate very hard, she had not heard a single word her mother had said.

But, now that her freedom was endangered, her mother had her full attention.

"My début? But mother! I don't need one, and I don't want to go to London! I should have to dress up for dances every night, and I would have to make idle talk with dull, pale, noble-people's daughters! And the chickens' eggs down at Mr. Daley's farm are going to hatch around that time, and—,"

It was Mrs. Dashwood's turn to interrupt. "It's already been settled by Mrs. Jennings and I. There will be no more talk of chickens and eggs, and other such things. You are going to London." She paused and added. "Oh, and don't call noble-people's daughters dull, pale things, even if they are."

Margret stumped upstairs to change, and halfway up, her mother called out, "Please put on something decent, Margret. We'll be leaving for you dress fitting as soon as you are ready."

Margret looked down at her mother in shock. "A dress fitting? What for?"

"You're going to need new gowns for our trip to London, dear. We can't have you appear in your present wardrobe, and I've already made arrangements with the seamstress."

My mother can be absolutely insane at times! Mrs. Dashwood's youngest daughter thought to herself.

Several harrowing hours and many pin-pricks later, the young Miss Dashwood was back in the tree she had occupied earlier that day, shuddering at the many marzipan and pastel colors she had been forced to try on. Things were looking very grim indeed for the brave Captain Margret, if this was the fate to be looked forward to. Dresses, hats, ribbons, and even a corset, which her mother and the seamstress had been shocked to find that she did not wear. They were so tight, and they made her back hurt; it was almost like torture just to wear one for a quarter of an hour, and she had been subjected to wear one for hours and hours while that snooty seamstress had fitted her.

Margret wished she could run away to sea like a boy in one of the books she had read. She was quite sure she would make an excellent cabin boy, for she knew how to cook, clean, and tie the most fantastic sea-knots. The only problem was that she wasn't young enough to pass off as a boy, as she had grown in several different ways. And her hands were not that of someone who had been working hard their whole life, though they almost were; she always seemed to get her hands scratched up in some way or other, and it caused her mother a great deal of consternation.

Margret groaned, as her mother called up to her. "Margret, I am very disappointed in you behavior today. It was absolutely uncalled for you to bite the seamstress."

"I didn't bite her, mother, I only bit at her. And anyways, she was poking me with those pins on purpose!"

"I'm sure she wasn't, dear."

Margret jumped down from the tree, scaring her mother quite badly, as it was not a small height.

"She was too, and she laughed every time I said 'ouch'. You just didn't hear her because you were so busy choosing fabrics."

Mrs. Dashwood sighed, and took her daughter's hands. "Please, dear. Promise me you won't behave so at your début, and I don't want you dashing about London. What would people think of you? They would think you uncouth and strange, and then you'd never find a husband!"

Margret had been just thinking that dashing about London sounded like great fun, and she was about to reply that she didn't need a husband, when she saw her mother's face. It was so distressed and imploring.

She sighed almost as her mother had, and said, "Alright mother. I'll behave myself."

One week later, Mrs. Jennings, Mrs. Dashwood, and Miss Margret Dashwood all arrived at Mrs. Jennings' London home. Captain Margret was intrigued by everything around her, and it took a great deal of willpower to keep herself from asking the millions of questions that were bottled up inside her. Instead, she observed as much as she possibly could. The neighborhood was well-to-do and very clean and boring, but Margret had glimpsed several lanes and streets that had been very dirty and interesting as they had entered the city. She wanted to run back the way the carriage had come and look down them and go into them, but she had given her word that she would act ladylike, and ladies do not muck about in streets.

Mrs. Jennings insisted that they attend a ball that very night, one not too far away.

Mrs. Dashwood agreed.

Miss Dashwood protested.

But in the end, she was forced to put on one of the fancy dresses they had brought with them, and put up her hair in a fashionable and absurd way.

There was débuting to do.

Somewhere else in London, Sir Arthur Merryweather, having returned from great-aunt Serafina's was getting ready for a ball as well. Or, rather, his manservant was getting him ready. Gentleman never dress themselves, if they can help it.

Even as his manservant helped him put on the final touches to his ensemble, his thoughts were far away, in the countryside, with a wild girl who was a fairy. Or were fairies that big? No matter, the fae could appear however they like.

He only wished that this one would appear before him.