Thanks to everyone that stuck with this story, you all are great. 3 3 3
"Don't leave." Charlotte whispered, looking at Margaret.
"What's wrong?" Margaret asked softly, the excitement of her wedding having worn off.
Charlotte looked at a man who was slowly waddling away from them, as if he was trying to still listen in on their conversation. "Can you come inside?" she asked, stepping back from the doorframe.
"Of course!" Margaret said, picking up her gown and stepping in. "The dress you made me is lovely, Charlotte, by the way."
"Thank you." Charlotte said softly.
The two girls walked into the parlor and sat down on the loveseat.
"Margaret, I have something very bad to tell you."
"Charlotte," Margaret laughed nervously. "Can you just say it? You've making me quite nervous."
"Sorry." Charlotte sighed loudly and looked over at her best friend. "Margaret, I screwed up."
"Tell me everything." Margaret responded, the care in her voice practically melting her words.
"From the beginning?" Charlotte asked, pulling her legs up onto the couch and crossing them, an act so unladylike it would have been entirely inappropriate if she was in company of anyone but her best friend.
"The very beginning." Margaret smiled.
"Okay, here goes." Charlotte signed, tilted her head up, and began. "You know I have a bit of a temper, Margaret, and I'll be the first to admit it. So at the…ball last night, I got asked to dance by this man, Jon. I didn't like him or anything, he just asked and Ross wasn't dancing with me at the time, so I agreed. And he was really cute, and three years older than me, so I could see how Ross would get mad, but at the time I just got mad at him."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Margaret interrupted. "You're going too fast. What did Ross do to make you so mad?"
"Well I was dancing with Jon and he just cut in! Sent Jon away like a misbehaving child, and tried to tell me that I couldn't dance with him!" Charlotte said, the anger in her voice rising. "We weren't courting, I liked him, as you know, and we kissed, but he's not my suitor or my husband, and even if he was, I don't see why he'd get to tell me who I can and can't dance with!"
"So, that's pretty justified." Margaret shrugged, patting Charlotte's knee. "You may have snapped at him, but I think you're just getting yourself worked up. It will all be fine in the morning." Looking at the clock she added "which is now, I guess."
"I'm not done telling the story." Charlotte said quietly. "It gets worse."
"Oh, okay. Go on then." Margaret said softly.
Charlotte continued "Well, at that point I was just so bent on getting even with Ross, there really was no end to what I'd do. I'd probably light the entire ballroom on fire if I had thought it would make him suffer enough - that was the state I was in. It seems completely irrational, I know, but at the time I was. I don't like being restricted, you know that, and once my temper is lit I am too full of plotting to think of much else! So I go looking for Jon, and I catch the end of his conversation. It's about me – and he's on my side. He's standing there, attractive as ever, and defending me. I swear my heart stopped. I grabbed him, and we paraded by Ross, he just glared at us, and stood outside for what must have been seconds before I realized you were about to be proposed to by the most heinous man on the face of this planet. So we rushed back in, saw your brave refusal, and your escape."
At this point Margaret giggled, reminiscing of sprinting through the forest with Alexander. Charlotte paused for a moment and smiled as well, before she got to the downfall in her judgment.
"Okay, continue." Margaret said, smile still on her face.
"Well, we stood there for a moment, and while everyone else was gossiping about you and Alexander, we were talking about ourselves. We went back outside and sat down on some marble benches, talking about the future. Oh, Margaret, he said such wonderful things. Talked about love, marriage, beaches and snow, children and pets, holidays and family! I got so immersed in his words, I didn't realize they had no meaning."
"Did he lie to you?" Margaret said softly.
"I'm getting to that." Charlotte gave a curt nod and continued. "So, after a while, I got cold. The dress I wore was no match for the early spring weather that we have. Still bitterly cold. So to warm me up, Jon went and got me some wine. Somehow, that only made me colder. So he got me more, and more, and more. Now I've never drunk before Margaret, at least, not more than a toast glass in Christmastide, but I knew that I was but one glass away from being drunk. So I told him to stop bringing me wine, and take me home before I did something stupid."
"Well that was a good choice, Charlotte!" Margaret smiled. "I always knew you had some sense, deep, deep down." Jokingly poking fun at her friend's impulsiveness.
Charlotte smiled without humor. "Well, we had very different interpretations of "take me home", it seems. He took me to his house."
"Oh, Charlotte!" Margaret cried. "No!"
"Yes." Charlotte said. "And when I woke up I-I-I realized he was married!" she then broke down in heavy sobs, and leaned on her best friends shoulder, staining her gown with tears.
"Oh, honey, there's no way you could have known….it's his fault, not yours…" Margaret murmured comfortingly, wrapping her arms around her friend, as Charlotte sobbed harder and harder.
"But I don't care about that! If it was an isolated event, I'd be embarrassed, but it wouldn't matter!" Charlotte wailed.
"Then why are you so upset?" Margaret asked out of pure confusion.
"Because-because of my stupid, stupid, temper!"
"Yes?" Margaret pressed.
"I lost Ross!" Charlotte continued sobbing, the only words audible for the next fifteen minutes were "and I really do love him!"
…
Mary was upset. She had had enough drama for one night – for a lifetime. What she would give for some stability, a little organization!
She knew what she wanted, but sometimes distractions prevailed, and she got sidetracked. At last night's engagement ball, she knew more than anything that she wanted to marry Mr. Iverson. She wanted to have all the power and prestige that came with being the wife of such a rich and powerful man. If she was showered with gifts for simply being the sister of his fiancé, imagine how doted upon she would be once she was his fiancé!
Originally, all she wanted was to have him in the family. To have finantially stability, as well as whatever dress or shoe she could ever desire. So she worked hard, trying her very best to persuade the dense and stubborn Margaret to marry the man, and welcome him the way he deserved. But she refused! She only had eyes for that stupid apprentice, a fling based only on attraction, as opposed to similar values such as that of her engagement. Well, original engagement. She was furious when Margaret ran out with Alexander, and she still is seething, even sitting at home, in her bed. But those feeling of rage and betrayal are somewhat put off, as Mary began to fully grasp what possibilies lie ahead.
No longer will she have to try and convince a match with a man unlike her, simply for her family's sake. There will be no more "Daniel"s in which to try and woo: her perfect man is available! When Mr. Iverson was so rudely rejected, he was left in want of a wife, but the one he originally picked was, clearly, unavailable. So obviously Mr. Iverson approved of Mary's family, and felt it good enough to marry into. So that was already taken care of. If she went to tomorrow night's party, and played her cards right, Mary could soon be Mrs. Mary Iverson!
Just the thought gave her chills! Fine gowns and caps, new shoes on random occasions, the duchesses and countesses over in Europe taking fashion influence from her! Oh, just the thought! The power, the wealth, the glamor that would surely come from the life only Mr. Iverson could give her!
She had done what she had had to – party invitations were filled out and left in the post-boxes of everyone within the town. She came back to tell Mr. Iverson the news, and he gave her a kiss on the cheek! A KISS! She squealed remembering it, and just couldn't hold her excitement until tomorrow night – the happiest day of her life!