Chapter Eleven | Of Reputations and Parlors
A routine of a sort is quickly formed. Margot spends much of the day with Beatrice around the house, who is endlessly happy to have her company. They take walks in the morning, often strolling to various parts of the city that Margot has not yet seen and browsing the shops along Coin Street. Beatrice is on a constant search for baby items despite her due date being months away, and Margot is quite happy to help her on her hunt.
Since arriving to the city, Margot finds herself attending many more social events than she had bargained for, but though they grow somewhat tiresome after a while, she rarely misses one in hopes of discovering something of import to pass along to Culper. Thus far, she has been regretfully unsuccessful, and has begun to understand why women are not often made into spies. Whatever information that would have been useful is oftentimes only exchanged when the ladies are not near. As such, she finds little of anything to take note of at the gatherings themselves, though she does make the acquaintance of several high-ranking officers.
As for her visits to Rivington's Corner, they are not as frequent as she might have liked. Though she is currently living in York City, it seems as though he is even further from her than ever. She visits him as much as she is able, though admittedly, not often enough for her liking. Robert is a most compelling man and her appreciation of his character has only grown ever deeper since they've formed a closer attachment.
Because she isn't able to visit him at Rivington's Corner as often as she would have liked, she completely misses the fact that Abraham Woodhull has come to York City, and this time it isn't to pretend to study the law.
It's been around two months since her acceptance to stay with Beatrice and her ultimate move to the city. She hasn't heard much news from Setauket due to her precarious position and has been somewhat removed from the loop. As such, when Robert suddenly calls upon her at her cousin's place of residence one afternoon, bearing news that cannot wait, she is quite shocked.
"A Mr. Townsend here to see you, Miss Risdon," one of the servants by the name of Jamison informs her as she sits with Beatrice in one of the drawing rooms. The pair is working on stitching together a quilted baby blanket for the colder months, but they both pause from their work upon hearing this.
Beatrice's eyebrows lift curiously. She turns from Jamison to Margot, who has frozen where she sits, her hand poised in the air as she pulls a stitch taut. Her cousin tilts her head and murmurs, "…Surely this is not the man you had formed an attachment to in months past, Margot? But I thought you had ceased your communication with him?"
Under her cousin's close inspection of her, Margot clears her throat lightly and feels her cheeks flush just so. She attempts to rearrange her features into an expression of subdued boredom, but her initial reaction to hearing that Robert has come to see her cannot be so easily erased and Beatrice does not seem fooled. Silly as her cousin can sometimes be where it concerns matters that capture her interest (namely love and all things flighty), she has a sharpness about her that cannot be ignored.
Margot sighs at her cousin and murmurs back, "I…suppose I forgot to mention that I resumed that communication…" She sends Beatrice a chagrined look.
Beatrice appears far more eager with this news than she ought to, but then again she does enjoy her gossip and often proclaims her desire for Margot to finally settle into marriage. She promptly turns to Jamison, who is still lingering by the room's arched doorway, and says, "Show him in, then, Jamison. I should very much like to meet this man."
Jamison nods and turns to do so. The moment his coattails disappear, Margot turns to Beatrice and hisses, "Bea, please refrain from asking…unscrupulous questions – "
Beatrice laughs. "Unscrupulous? Really, Margot, I only wish to make his acquaintance. I'm curious as to why he's never called on you before, when you've been here in the city for nearly two months now."
Margot's response to this is an immediate, "He's quite busy and doesn't have time to make frequent social calls – "
"Mr. Townsend!" Beatrice interrupts, and stands. Margot feels her face flush a bit more when she turns and sees Robert in the doorway, looking rather out of place. Her cousin is not helping matters. "So this is the man Margot has told me about. My, but you do have an impressive glare."
Robert pauses at this and glances over at Margot, who, despite being somewhat embarrassed, feels slight amusement pull at the corners of her mouth.
"Beatrice, perhaps you might give us a moment," Margot firmly suggests. She stands up and smooths out her skirts as her cousin shoots her a disappointed look. Beatrice doesn't argue, though she does have that look about her which tells Margot that she'll most definitely be asking for a detailed description of Robert's reasons for calling the moment he leaves. Still, she erases the look when she turns back to Robert.
"Of course," she smoothly replies, eyeing Robert curiously. "I'll leave you two alone to…talk."
Margot nearly sighs aloud at her cousin's insinuation, but luckily Beatrice doesn't notice, for she's sweeping from the room a moment later with only one last curious glance at Robert. Regardless of this lingering glance, Margot is thankful that Beatrice seems to, at this moment at least, care little for the usual proprieties that exist within society – namely the one that requires a chaperon to form the foundation of any meeting held between two unmarried people of opposing sex. Being alone with Robert has been near to impossible in recent weeks. Her visits to Rivington's bustling tavern don't exactly lend to quiet or tender encounters…though, judging from the firm expression on Robert's face, this one won't be quiet or tender either.
The moment Beatrice is gone, Robert strides forward and, without giving Margot a proper hello, says, "Why didn't you tell me that Woodhull is here?"
Now, Margot is already confused as to the reason why Robert would call upon her when he never has before, but this particular question only makes her all the more bewildered. She pauses, raises her eyebrows, and asks, "Abe is here in the city? Whatever for?"
Her apparent confusion only adds to his own. He furrows his brow. "…You didn't know, then? I thought he would have told you."
Margot just stares at him. Her confusion is obvious. In a hushed tone, Margot steps towards him and murmurs, "I don't understand. How do you know he's here?"
Robert glances over his shoulder towards the open threshold as if he's concerned that someone is listening in. He takes her shoulder and guides her across the room to the window, where they might have some semblance of privacy. Then, in a low voice just barely more than a whisper, he tells her, "I saw him in Rivington's yesterday. He's here to get justice on Benedict Arnold. He's all done up in red now. Joined the American Legion."
Margot's mouth drops open. "What?"
He purses his mouth. "I thought someone would have informed you about this."
She shakes her head and whispers, "I haven't heard anything from them since taking up residence here." Then, after a heavy pause, she catches his eye and says, "I need to talk to him."
Robert hesitates, and so she quickly adds, "If he's here, then something must have happened in Setauket. I need to know that everyone is safe."
He pauses before reaching out to touch her arm, murmuring, "You would have heard news if something had happened, Margot."
She sighs at him and appeals, "Yes, but I need to ask him directly. Is he often at Rivington's?"
He looks very reluctant to answer her, which is understandable. If she approaches Abe in public, then people may wonder how they are acquainted. Rivington's isn't exactly the safest place to meet; there's always a listening ear.
"…You mustn't come to Rivington's to speak with him," he finally says, "but there may be another way. There's to be a party at Kennedy House tonight. I heard from Colonel Cook that General Clinton himself wishes to make Woodhull's acquaintance. He'll be there…and so will I."
Margot can't help but lift her brows at this. "You?" she prompts, knowing him well enough to realize that Robert Townsend doesn't much like attending parties.
At her surprised tone, his mouth curls up for a brief second before his expression becomes serious once more. "Yes, me. I'd like to talk to him as well. I was planning on doing so there, upon the pretense of informing Cook that Rivington is regretfully unable to attend on account of his wife being in town."
Margot's brow lifts up ever higher. Slightly distracted, she muses, "…I had no idea James was married."
Robert scoffs, "Yes, well, you wouldn't. He doesn't speak of his wife often. He prefers the company of unattached women whenever his spouse is out of town." He sends her an unimpressed look that makes her cough to hide a laugh.
"I suppose I shouldn't be overly surprised," she admits, then says, "but this is good news, Robert. Beatrice has already secured an invitation to Kennedy House tonight. She was telling me of it just before you arrived."
His response to this is a dry, "And I'm sure you were jumping at the bit to attend and discover as much as you can for our friends."
Margot chuckles at him. Her eyes flash just so as she drops her voice to whisper, "Don't pretend that you haven't been keeping one eye open, Robert. You may wish to appear as if you've stopped spying, but we both know that you'd be back in Oyster Bay if you really had."
He narrows his eyes at her. She smiles that tiny smile.
"Besides," she murmurs, tentatively reaching up to fuss over the collar of his shirt and fix its already perfect folds, "I aim to discover something else tonight as well, which has nothing to do with those particular extracurriculars."
Robert, who had straightened up since her fingers had alighted upon him, studies her closely. "…I fear to ask what you mean by that."
Margot lifts her eyes to his and tilts her head as she responds, "I only wonder if you're as good a dancer as you are a draught player."
He doesn't seem impressed with this, either, and huffs, "I am not attending this party to dance, Margot. In fact, I doubt I'll be there long enough to hear the end of the first song."
She hums. Her fingers accidentally drift against the bare skin above his neck stock. He swallows.
"That is quite a shame," she responds. The tone of her voice hints that she is entirely unsurprised to hear his calm rebuttal, which naturally makes him narrow his eyes all the more. If he's not mistaken, she is now conducting another game of strategy, the stakes of which are slightly higher than they were before…if only to his own self-control.
"I hardly ever see you, and when I do, you must wait upon the officers, thus interrupting our…moments," she murmurs, her fingers slipping away from where they had been smoothing down his collar. Now, they drift just so down his vest.
It is quite a bold move despite the fact that she's hardly touching him at all. Robert sends her a dry look that he doesn't entirely mean, catches her hands before they can do his self-control permanent damage, and mutters, "You mean the moments in which you are a constant thorn in my side and seek to distract me from my work as much as you are able?"
The sarcastic lilt in his voice makes her laugh aloud. His mouth twitches up too, in response.
"Seek to distract?" she repeats, smiling mischievously. "Why Mr. Townsend, I would be so bold as to make the assertion that I am usually very successful in such endeavors."
He purses his mouth at her, but doesn't look annoyed, and neither does he contradict her. Actually, his eyes are hooded in a way they rarely are. The glance he throws over his shoulder is quickly done to ensure their continued privacy, while the way he shuffles closer to her is done just as quickly, to ensure time is not lost.
"You are very proud of that, I see," he murmurs lowly at her, and then takes her face and leans down to brush his mouth over hers.
Margot inhales slowly and kisses him back, reaching up to curl her hands around the collar she had only just abandoned. Her efforts to smooth it are forsaken; it quickly becomes far more wrinkled than it has ever been as she pulls him forcibly closer.
Impropriety and the threat of her cousin's return doesn't allow them to linger, which is a most grievous injustice. There is something deeply appealing about the way he kisses her with that quiet hesitance, as if he is unsure whether he ought to or not. Gentlemen do not make a habit of kissing their ladies in the parlors of their cousins, where they can be interrupted at any moment or seen by the straying gaze of a servant upon their rounds. Robert might not be a gentleman in name or in title, but he does think of himself as one in morality. Still, he finds it rather difficult to pull away from her, especially when Margot clearly doesn't wish him to. That she is so receiving of his attention, so eager for his kiss, makes it very difficult indeed.
It certainly doesn't help that they have not shared such affection for some time. Her trips to Rivington's are short and brief, and since she is staying at her cousin's residence, she has no need to venture to the upper rooms where there is more privacy to be had and more moments to carve out for such things. Their recent meetings have been conversational only, occuring near the counter while he prepared drinks for the officers. They haven't been alone for months.
When he tries to pull away, she clings to him all the more, lifting a hand to caress the side of his face. Her fingertips dip against his hair, alighting upon the smooth strands of it and wishing to loosen it from its clasp and let it spill over his shoulders. She would like to see him in a more unkempt state. She thinks she would like that very much indeed.
"Margot," he whispers warningly, as if he knows where her thoughts have fled. He gently takes her hands and pulls them away, looking faintly reluctant. "I should leave. I've been here too long already."
She sighs and mutters, "You worry too much for my reputation, Robert."
The corner of his mouth edges up. With a quiet scoff, he leans in and dryly responds, "No, Miss Risdon, I worry for my self-control."
She stares in surprise at his confession, and laughs breathlessly at the loaded glance he sends her. His latest move in their game of strategy has certainly come as an exhilarating surprise.
"…I'll see you tonight?" she murmurs as he steps back.
He nods, "Tonight," then, pausing, reaches for her hand again and lifts it to his mouth. His eyes remain fixated upon hers even after he lets it fall back to her side, and the secretive smile that pulls her mouth up is met with one of even more secrecy.
As she follows him to the door, Margot can't help but amusingly murmur, "You know, Robert, you can be very romantic when you wish to be. I would have never thought it possible."
She laughs when he scoffs at her, pulling his cloak back on and gathering his hat. Then, sending her another of his dry looks, he responds, "…Don't tell anyone, or my reputation will be at stake."
When she laughs again, Robert can't help but smile at her.