Chapter Seventeen | Upon the Dawn

When the morning dawns, it dawns a new day for the colonies of America. As the weeks pass, news of victory spreads like wildfire. Yorktown has been taken and the British sent retreating back to York City in hopes of regrouping, but the tides have changed against them. A new hope blossoms, tempering tongues and spreading whispers of new government and a reformed Congress out of Philadelphia. Robert follows the news as closely as he can what with the work he now finds himself doing on the farm. It is familiar but tiring, stripping his energy with a sort of blessed vigor that helps to distract him from his ever-cycling thoughts. Indeed, as weeks turn to months, he longs for distraction more than anything.

Margot has not arrived, nor has he received word from her. The few letters sent to Setauket had been returned with the seal still unbroken. After the fourth, he had saddled his horse and had taken the journey in person, but she had not been there upon his arrival. In fact, from the few townsfolk he had asked, she has not been there for some time. And so, with nothing else to do and no idea where she might have gone, Robert had returned to Oyster Bay in low spirits.

The Townsends begin life anew. There is much to be done about the farm. First, crops to be planted, then the stores replenished as much as possible. His father has been struggling since the burning of the barn some years prior. With such a crux of his livelihood stripped away, little coin could be drafted into service to pay for workers and materials for the rebuilding. The process is yet uncompleted even now. Robert turns all his energy to the task with a singularity that is meant to further distract him. His father sees it, of course. He knows his son, and he knows that Margot Risdon has become important to him. As July becomes August and the harvest is ready to be brought in, he discovers the true depth of that importance.

"Marriage?" he had repeated when the truth of the matter is at last pried from Robert's stoic lips.

Robert had merely sent him a strained smile and, beneath the hot blaze of sun beating down upon the fields, murmured, "As much of one as could be had, between two people only."

But his father had only put a hand on his shoulder and had given him a squeeze, saying, "She'll come." Then, as if he is somewhat doubtful of this, he presses a cheerful smile to his face and exuberantly nods, "Of course she will!"

Robert doesn't need that sort of encouragement, though. He is not a man of little faith, nor does he easily forget the love that had bolstered Margot's eyes on their first and last night together. The reason for his unease is not because he believes the promise she had made to be broken, but rather because he knows not what has become of her. It is a fear that makes him ever restless; a constancy of thought that never fades for very long before it presses itself back into existence. Is she safe? Had she run into trouble on her way back to Setauket?

He has resolved to return to Setauket at the earliest opportunity in hopes of asking Abraham if he knows of her whereabouts, for the man had presumably been in Yorktown when last he had made the trip. He has not yet had the opportunity though. The wheat harvest is what will hopefully bring the Townsends enough coin to rebuild the barn in its entirety and, in doing so, rebuild the foundations of their lives here in Oyster Bay. He cannot abandon the work to make such a journey, even though Setauket is not so very far away.

As so he works, instead, and waits with dwindling hope that Margot herself will arrive and put his fears to rest. And, if his doubts begin to turn down other avenues, whispering questions at him through the darkness at the end of day – why would such a woman want a man like you? – well, he does his best to cast them off. After all, he knows her. She is an infuriating creature but she is a loyal one, and she would not make so significant a pledge without meaning every word of it. But it would be a lie if he said that such doubts did not begin to creep into his mind more and more as the harvest season begins to pass and the distractions of field work is nearly finished. He has never been a man with charm to spare. Perhaps Margot had found another after all…

The conclusion of these doubts comes only a month later, and in the most unexpected manner imaginable. You see, Robert Townsend knows Margot Risdon very well by now, but not even he could have possibly expected that, upon waking up that morning, his entire life would be forever altered in a matter of hours.

He has not been afield for very long when this alteration occurs. In fact, the dawn has hardly broken over the land when the sound of hooves alerts him to another's presence. He is dressed down in plain black trousers, having forgone his waistcoat and vest in favor of his white tunic. Even without the kerchief about his neck, the summer heat still crowds against his skin as he heaves bushels of wheat into the wagon to be brought across the farm in preparation for market day. His casual garb is that of a farmer today; he looks as far from the immaculately dressed taverner as he ever has, which soon becomes something he will grow more cognizant of upon realizing who that horse belongs to.

He looks up, at first thinking it to be Mr. Hickens who owns the farmland some miles away and has been of great help to the Townsends where it concerns their harvest. With little coin to pay for able men to assist, Robert has almost singlehanded cut and bundled the wheat into sheaves all on his own. It is a task that is both consuming and exhausting, ensuring that he is afield from dawn to dusk each day without fail. Mr. Hickens has been an unfailing resource during this time. With his farming experience and market connections, Robert has little doubt that they will yet manage to bring in enough coin to get them through the winter and, perhaps, beyond. Then, once he ensures that his father will be able to care for himself and the property and begin to pay for workers to plant and harvest as was done in times past, Robert means to return to York City to rebuild his own livelihood. With the war over for the most part, with only the Treaty of Paris to be finalized, the opportunity to recreate himself as a businessman calls to him in ways he cannot ignore.

As the horse approaches, trotting across the field to where he stands silhouetted in the early morning light, Robert sees not the stout form of Mr. Hickens upon the horse, nor indeed does the horse itself look at all familiar to him. He pauses in his work to lean against the wagon and furrows his brow, but he does not recognize the horse and rider until it trots closer. And then…

"Woodhull?" he murmurs beneath his breath, expression clearing into one of hope. He pushes off the wagon to stride forward, eager to meet him. But his foots falter and cease altogether when he sees at last the figure sitting behind Abraham, her hands curled about Abe's waist. And, quite suddenly, his heart takes off across the field to where they are even as his body grows stock-still.

It seems to take an eternity for them to reach him, but when they do, Robert springs into action. Every doubt that had plagued him for months is forced back as if blown away by a torrent of wind. She is here at last. He stares at her as if he is a man starved and hopes that Abraham will forgive him, for he cannot help but ignore him altogether when he arrives at her side and places a hand upon the horse's rump. The first moment he is able, he reaches up to take her waist and pull her from the horse and then into his arms, where he hopes she might remain.

Margot releases a huffed laugh as he does, and he supposes that he is acting rather out of sorts as compared to the stoic man that had bustled about Rivington's Corner. That man would have tampered down the joy of her presence so as to uphold his enduring apathy to anything threatening his routine. That man would not lean back to cup her face and press his forehead against hers and allow his voice to lower into such hopeful buoyancy when he whispers, "You're here."

Something flickers through her eyes then; a sadness, he thinks, though he doesn't know the source of it. He has little time to inquire before Abraham clears his throat and reminds them both of his presence, forcing Robert to pull away and put a more respectable distance between himself and the woman before him. It's silly perhaps – or at least he thinks it ought to be – but it is almost painful to do so.

"I've come to discuss a few things with you," Abe says, catching Robert's eye. He looks slightly awkward when he glances over at Margot and clears his throat. Perhaps such affection directed at his childhood friend is the cause, for he turns to her and murmurs, "Margot…maybe you could…uh, give us a minute."

Now, Margot Risdon is hardly the sort to allow herself to be told what to do and when to do it. She is of course aware of the boundaries between man and woman and knows how to maintain them, but there is a fire behind her when she deems that such boundaries are unnecessary and even offensive. The strength of her spirit is indeed a piece of her that Robert is inordinately fond of, for he sees this stubborn quality reflected in himself as well. He braces himself for Margot's flippant response to Abraham – a telling off, as it were, which he knows that she is hardly unwilling to give – but much to his surprise, it does not come. Instead, Margot turns to send Abraham a nod and steps back obediently. That she looks almost eager to take her leave makes Robert frown. It is only the quiet squeeze that she delivers to his arm that holds his doubts at bay – and, of course, the manner in which she glances quickly from Abe to Robert before darting forward to press a quick kiss against his cheek.

"I wished to speak with Samuel, but I shall be back once your business with Abe is concluded," she murmurs to him, and he cannot put to word the relief he feels upon this explanation, or the way those quiet doubts immediately fall away.

He breathes out and, nodding, watches until she has turned to make the walk across the field to where the Townsend residence is located. It is only then that he realizes the fine clothing she had donned, the delicate floral pattern of her dress and the carefully twisted fashion of her hair. As he tilts his head and studies the impeccable garb, he feels his mouth twitch into a smile. He does not yet know the true reason for it and simply makes the erroneous assumption that she had merely dressed in such a way so as to mark their reunion with more finesse.

It was mentioned previously that Robert Townsend's life was about to be forever altered, but he has not grasped the full breadth of such alterations quite yet.

His mind is drawn back to the present when Abe puts a hand on his shoulder and nods over to the wagon, where they might have some shade from the heat of the sun. Thoughts of Margot's sudden reappearance into his life, a manner in which he has little doubt that she is very proud of, infuriating creature that she is, are brushed aside when the two men turn to the wagon. Abraham pulls out a letter from his waistcoat pocket and hands it to Robert with a nod. Robert hazards a glance at him before pulling it open to read the contents.

After skimming it twice over, he realizes that it is correspondence from yet another spy.

"So this Abigail was 355?" Robert wonders, lifting his eyes to Abe's with a look of solemnity blazing through them. Judging from the letter's contents, the woman is yet in York City with need of safe passage and, more importantly, freedom papers. The papers she had received from the British are no longer applicable with the transfer of control. Her situation has been made dire as a result, for there is no way of knowing what will become of her should such papers fail to be processed.

Abe shifts on his feet and grimly responds, "Mmhmm. I was on my way to New York to ask you to send the signal when Margot told me you were here."

Robert, who had returned his gaze to the page before him, once more lifts his eyes to stare at Abraham. It isn't the mention of Margot in itself that gives him pause, but rather the revelation that she had known, after all, of his own whereabouts and yet had failed to come to him before. He is apprehensive in asking Abe, for he would much prefer to ask the woman herself, but he can't help it when he murmurs, "I went to Setauket to find her, but she wasn't there…"

The question behind his words makes Abe shrug and explain, "Aye, well, she was there for a time, but Ben and Caleb decided to send for her. With Anna in Washington's camp and me down in Yorktown, it wasn't ideal for her to be in town all by her lonesome without someone to look after her." Here, he pauses, and then adds, "…She wanted to come here, mind you. She was very displeased with Caleb when he went to collect her."

A weight that Robert hadn't fully realized was upon him now lifts. He returns his gaze to the letter so as to shroud this relief from Abe, for it is a vulnerable thing that he doesn't wish to be made public. For Abe's part, he makes no comment on it, nor on Robert's roundabout enquiry, and merely returns the conversation to the matter at hand.

"I guess I'll head to York City myself to meet the army. I intend to see Washington. Make sure this matter with Abigail is settled and get paid back for what we're owed," he says, much to Robert's surprise. As he hands the letter back to Abe, he studies him with eyebrows slightly lifted. Abe, though, merely tucks the letter into his pocket and leans in to urge, "List your expenses. I'll fight for you, too. After all, it was my…my deception that got you into all this."

Robert's surprise fades into a fond smile. He shakes his head and turns his gaze to the field. For a brief moment, silence falls as Robert considers these words. He thinks back to the struggles and the fears, the anxiety of being recognized as a spy, and yes, the expenses he had paid and the money he had lost – his own comfortable business that was sold to buy a stake in Rivington's Corner, only for that to be handed over just the same…but then he thinks on the good things as well. The mischievous smiles sent to him across crowded rooms. The knowledge that, after all, he was making a difference. That he was fighting in the only way he could for this country of theirs.

It is reward enough, he thinks, despite the hardships.

When he turns back to Abe, his expression is set with a resigned and even lighthearted acceptance of all that has happened and all that has yet to occur. "The only thing I regret is having to be prodded into doing something that my conscious should have dictated," he tells him. The truth of this statement has been one that he has been considering for some time now, when the toil of working the fields alone had caught up to him and his doubts regarding Margot had tried to overturn his stalwart resolve. It is not a new consideration, but rather one that has grown slowly over time, until it has been acknowledged and affirmed with ever-expanding solidity.

Abe, though, doesn't appear to agree entirely. He looks down and shakes his head, eyes flinting with the same resolute determination that had blazed through them many times prior. With that unyielding expression, he responds, "Yes, but…we're not looking for reward, just what we're owed, same as soldiers."

Robert exhales with a short chuckle and murmurs, "Yeah, but we weren't soldiers, were we?" His voice grows a touch more solemn when he muses, "Lies were our weapons. Sins in service of ideals."

A brief silence falls as these words fall into place. Abe sets his jaw and, after a moment spent gazing across the field that spans out before them, lets out a breath and asks, "So what? We're damned?"

Here, Robert pauses, hands on his hips as he stands there before the wagon and before Samuel Culper, a man who he had cursed several times over for dragging him into a life of espionage and deceit. He has long accepted this, too, however. He no longer looks back upon his spywork with displeasure. If he is damned for it, then so be it. God will be his judge when that day comes.

With a sigh, he says, "Let's just say that if having my pockets emptied is my only penance, I am willing to bear it."

Abe pushes off from the wagon and adamantly says, "Yeah, but I have a family to provide for." There is an edge of desperation to his words; a grief that shapes the tone of them in ways that few can understand. Robert Townsend does, though. After all, he knows the cost of spywork.

Robert nods. "And family you've lost. You've paid a deeper price than any of us." He pauses again and slowly murmurs, "I don't know what makes that whole."

Abe drops his eyes with a heavy breath. There is little more to say on such matters, and the Robert of old would perhaps have left it there. But time has changed him, and acceptance has softened the edge of his character in ways that are not easily explained. So, despite his desire to go to the house and settle the other matter that whispers at him, he instead turns to Abe and nods towards the structure of the barn that has yet to be finished in full, saying, "There is one more issue to be settled between us."

Abe is confused as he follows Robert across the field to where it stands, until of course he sees the draught board that Robert retreives. Then, with a laugh, Abe shakes his head and peers at him through the bright sunlight.

"Do we have time, I wonder?" he asks, glancing back towards the house that rises in the near distance. There's a strange twist to his voice – a sort of quiet mischief that makes Robert lift a brow at him, not knowing from where it comes or what the reasons are for its cultivation – but Abe doesn't appear as if he means to explain himself when he shrugs out another laugh and sits down by the barn. Robert merely takes a seat as well, though he does wonder. Assuming that Abe is simply referring to his desire to continue with the tasks of the day, though, he doesn't question him and just prepares the board.

There is a pleasant simplicity in the game that has never been had before between the men. The last time they had played, Robert was yet unconvinced to join the cause and held more interest in ridding Abraham from his life once and for all. He finds it rather ironic, really, that as the game progresses and more pieces are removed, he wishes this particular diversion to continue for as long as it may. Though his mind whispers at him to speak with the woman who he has been waiting months for, and his blood burns beneath his skin with the desire to take her into his arms and ensure that she never again leaves them, this game of strategy is one that he hadn't realized he yearned for until now. He has been far too busy to sit down for such things in quite a long time, and with no one save his father to play against at that. It is refreshing to have a different opponent whose clever plays keep his mind occupied so thoroughly. He finds himself laughing aloud at the capable way in which Abe ends up winning, and extends his hand in a firm handshake good-naturedly once said win is had.

"Best out of three?" Robert asks with a raised brow, and begins to collect the pieces.

Abe, however, merely huffs out a chuckle and glances once more to the house in the distance, wryly responding, "Another time, I think. Someone is waiting for you and I've learned long ago not to get in her way."

Robert's mouth shifts into a smile at this, but it is soon tempered with confusion when Abe stands up and adds, "Besides, you don't want to be late or you'll never hear the end of it."

Puzzled by this cryptic statement, Robert stands as well and asks, "Late? For what?"

But Abe only sends him another wry smile and doesn't answer, leaving Robert's logical mind to spiral into guesswork. The only problem is that, where Margot Risdon is concerned, he has found that his usual brand of logic usually fails him.

Once the draught board is put back in its place, the men make their way across the field. Robert's thoughts are spinning with each step he takes, but Abe is content to cheerfully whistle as they go and seems unconcerned with the confusion he has caused. In fact, Robert would go so far as to make the claim the Abe looks rather pleased by it. The occasional glances he shoots at Robert the nearer they get to their destination is proof enough of that. There is the hint of mischief coloring his eyes same as before that only serves to confuse all the more.

Said bewilderment only increases, though, when Robert and Abe enter the Townsend residence, only for the sound of animated laughter to trickle into the hallway by the door. Samuel's voice drifts through the house with a jovial, "You, my dear, are a long needed breath of fresh air – "

Robert's mouth tilts up at this, as well as the sound of Margot's responding laughter. Long needed, indeed. The itch to go to her has never been stronger; he feels it curl through his veins so solidly that it is all he can do to not to hasten through the house. He is suddenly very glad that Abe had turned down the second draught game. Now that he is here, with Margot so close, his heart near to beats straight from his chest. He clears his throat when he sees Abe send him an amused look, and dryly tells him, "Not a word, Woodhull."

Abe just chuckles and lightheartedly responds, "You're in for the surprise of your life, Townsend. I'm just looking forward to watching it unfold is all."

Another bolt of confusion descends upon Robert at these words, but before he can demand answers, his father pokes his head into the hallway and excitedly says, "Finally! What took you so long?"

Robert raises an eyebrow at his father, at once taking note of the fact that the man seems to have changed into his Sunday best for reasons he cannot begin to fathom.

"Robert, you ought to go change into something a bit more appropriate," Samuel Townsend informs him, casting his gaze over the plain black trousers and casual work shirt he had donned just hours before. His voice is oddly chiding when he adds, "And have a shave. You should look your best."

Robert lifts his eyebrows at this. His hand alights thoughtfully upon his jaw as his brow furrows. His father has never before berated him for the occasional mornings in which he had forgone such a task. Of late, the increasing work has left him so exhausted that even the thought of sectioning away a piece of his morning for such things had been too much to think upon.

"Oh, he needn't bother," Margot's voice suddenly sounds from behind his father, and a moment later she appears in the doorway wearing the same tiny, mischievous smile that always manages to set his heart aflame. It beats now, too, jarring against his chest as he lowers his eyes to the curve of her mouth. The pace increases all the more when she murmurs, "I think the look suits you, Robert."

His eyes flick back up to hers and the desire to storm across the hall and kiss her is so overpowering that it must show in his gaze, for her own eyes darken just a touch in response.

Margot smiles a little wider and then looks over at Abe. "We'll meet you there?" she asks, much to Robert's continued confusion.

Abe nods, grasping his cap between his hands as he sends Robert another wry look. "Aye. You've got an hour, mind. Samuel, shall we?"

Robert's furrowed brow only deepens with his father bursts to action and exclaims, "Ah, of course – don't be late, Robert." Then, even as Robert is opening his mouth to ask what on God's green earth is going on, his father bustles past him and ushers Abe out of the door, leaving his son standing in baffled silence.

A moment is spent staring at the now-closed door with no shortage of bemusement before Margot pipes up with a smiling, "You really should change, Robert. I'll wait. Unless, of course, you need assistance with your kerchief."

This is delivered with a tempered look that blazes through her eyes, made all the stronger when he turns back to her with lifted brows and, after another baffled pause, asks, "…Margot, I – seem to be – what should I not be late for?"

So rare is this speechlessness that Margot quirks a smile upon hearing it, and chuckles, "Why Robert, I am surprised that you need ask." Though, from the tone of her voice, she is most certainly not surprised, and seems to be having a very affable time watching his bewilderment play out so thoroughly. She smiles in what she perhaps thinks is innocent but is decidedly not, and tilts her head at him.

Beginning to tire of the continued confusion that everyone seems to enjoy placing him in, he stares at her for several heartbeats before stepping forward. Her mischief does not extend so far as to make her move away from him as he approaches her – in fact, she seems very glad indeed when Robert is close enough that his presence is felt all the stronger.

Robert, however, does not reach for her yet. Instead, he looks down and, brow still furrowed, murmurs, "I've been…waiting for you. For quite some time. I feared the worst when you did not come…"

While delivering himself from the confusion is something he certainly means to do, now that they are alone, he cannot help these words from appearing on his tongue. The gentle spin of sadness once more perforates her eyes upon hearing them, and he holds his breath when he sees it there.

Now devoid of teasing, Margot's voice is far more solemn when she shifts forward to place her hands upon his forearms and say, "Yes, I wished to send a letter explaining everything, but it all happened so quickly and resources for such things were scarce."

She shifts her hands up his arms to rest upon his shoulders. The feeling of her touch rushes through him so solidly that he cannot possibly help himself from hauling her closer. Only when she is pressed against his chest does he feel the last of his doubts fade into definitive silence.

He lifts a hand to her hair and breathes, "It is enough to have you now."

He feels her exhale and pulls her more firmly against him. The urge to kiss her, finally, as he had wanted to do the moment he had helped her off her horse, fills him so intensely that he can no longer brush aside the desire. Margot doesn't appear to mind. When he turns his head and guides her face to his, she only closes her eyes and clutches him harder.

Their lips move deeply for some moments before lingering into a more lighthearted embrace, and he pauses to bring her hand to his mouth to kiss her knuckles and breath out against it, overcome by her unexpected reappearance. He could stand here all the long day and want for nothing but to have her in his arms. The peace he feels at her coming is almost violent in its potency, as if he is a tree whose bark has been stripped away and exposed to the brilliance of the sunlight for the first time. Indeed, it does rather feel as though a layer of protection has been dropped from around his heart, for he needs it not where she is concerned. She, who has his very soul in her hands…

"Well, I am your wife, after all," Margot reminds him after a long, tender silence. His eyes crinkle at the reminder, though quickly become confused again when she sends him a bright smile and, against his mouth, adds, "Especially after today."

It is this statement that finally forms the bridge that dissolves his bewilderment. Robert blinks at her and opens his mouth, but seems not to know what words he means to say, for the silence quickly becomes deafening.

Then, after staring at her and that mischievous smile that makes a reappearance upon her mouth, Robert haltingly says, "You – I – you mean to – so suddenly?"

Margot's lips twitch in response. He pauses again, only to then release an exhaled laugh. His father's prior words make far more sense, now. He supposes he really ought to shave if he'll be dragged to the alter by the woman before him. The thought causes an amused smile to tilt up his mouth.

The smile she sends him then is far less mischievous and far more beaming, and it absolutely takes his breath away. What remainder of breath is left within his lungs is further removed when Margot leans in to draw her fingers over his unshaven jaw and deliver yet another slow kiss to his mouth, murmuring, "Seeing as our vows were only exchanged in private, it would be highly inappropriate for me to stay here with you when we are not married in a more binding sense." Then, with a pleased hum, she adds, "…Which would be rather upsetting, seeing as I've sold my father's house and have nowhere to go."

Robert swallows thickly and breathes out, "Hmm. And how do you know I'll take you in?"

She shivers at the dry sarcasm that tugs at his voice. Oh how she had missed it these last few months…

With a quiet smile, she lifts her other hand to his face and, cupping his jaw now with light fingers, playfully murmurs, "Because, Robert, it is my belief that you are desperately in love with me."

His mouth twitches again. What an infuriating creature she is! With a lifted brow, he brushes his nose against hers and lowly responds, "I suppose I'll have to ask your British fiancé first."

Margot's mouth curls up in amusement. His lips brush against it, unable to help himself. The way her eyes quietly flash at the move is well worth it, as are the shivers that sweep through her, for which he can feel as she clenches her fingers tighter into the fabric of his shirt. How has he managed to survive without her for as long as he has? Now she is here in his arms, smiling that tiny smile that he has long memorized, warm against him and drawing forth a side of him that he had never known existed before she unburied it, and he cannot bear the thought even of letting her go for long enough to retreat upstairs and hunt down a fresh tunic.

She seems to be of the same mind, for her arms are locked about his waist with all the determination of one who means to stay precisely where she is and never leave, even if the world itself attempts to separate them. Stubborn, wonderful woman.

With a hum, Margot sighs, "Why, I'm sure he's halfway back to England by now."

Robert tries to press back his responding amusement at this breezy statement, but alas, he is too full of joy and, having never felt the like of it in all his years, tilts his head back and releases a laugh that makes her appear rather surprised – for she has never seen the like of it reflected in his expression either, and finds him to be quite changed from the last time she had seen him. But that was before, when apprehension had crowded into the plains of his face and constant worry hounded his footsteps each moment he spent pouring drinks for soldiers and keeping one eye open for intelligence to pass along. He has no reason to keep up such guards now. Indeed, around her, he wishes for there to be none to begin with.

With an affectionate gleam in his eye that rather captivates her, Robert begins to say, "Yes, I do believe you're – ", but he never gets to finish.

This is because Margot is so enraptured by the unhindered joy in his expression that she can't possibly stop herself from taking his face and dragging him down to her, her lips quickly and efficiently muffling the remainder of his sentence in a manner that Robert cannot, by the by, find any fault with whatsoever.

He curls his arms around her waist to bring her closer, fingers straying to the stays of her corset. Margot cannot feel the press of his touch through the thick fabric, but she does see the heat that crowds through his eyes when they lock with hers, and to say that she is unaffected by it would be a terrible lie. In fact, she is half tempted to remind Robert that they do, after all, have an entire hour before they must arrive at the chapel on the edge of town, and that Abe had promised that he would take Samuel there post-haste so as to give them some time to themselves beforehand.

She had orchestrated this because she had thought that Robert may need a bit more convincing. After all, it is quite out of the ordinary for a woman to appear on a man's doorstep after months of absence, without any warning whatsoever, and ask him to marry her. Regardless of the vows exchanged in the darkness of her room at Rivington's Corner months prior, and also of the fact that Margot has certainly spent the weeks since envisioning herself as his wife for all intents and purposes, it is quite a bit more permanent to exchange such vows before witnesses and before a minister. She wouldn't have necessarily blamed him for needing a few days to prepare. Robert has never been the sort of man to jump into anything without thorough consideration.

She is understandably surprised, then, when Robert seems to hardly bat an eye at her sudden announcement that they really ought to get married that very afternoon, without any planning at all. In fact, even now as he slowly backs her up until she is pressed between the threshold post and his body, Margot is still rather surprised.

Against his urgent lips, she murmurs, "Mmm…you are quite certain that…that you do not wish to…wait a day or so…to marry me…?"

He huffs against her mouth and reaches up to slip his fingers gingerly into her hair, careful not to mess up the twists of the style she no doubt spent much of the morning creating. He is quite certain that he will thoroughly enjoy messing it up later, but for now…

He presses one last firm kiss to her lips before drawing back. Dark eyes locking with hers, he responds, "I have waited long enough."

Her eyes flash. She has heard it, then, the double-edged meaning of his words. He takes a deep breath when her mouth slowly curls into a smile, eyes shining.

"I very much like a man who knows precisely what he wants," she informs him then in a voice that leaves no guesswork at where her thoughts are drifting. She tilts her head back so that it rests against the post behind her and reaches out to pull him back against her.

He chuckles as he does, but much to her disappointment, he swoops in to kiss her forehead rather than her mouth and sighs, "I should go upstairs and prepare. And you," he lifts a brow when he opens her mouth to interrupt, "will wait down here."

She simpers out a laugh and draws her fingers down his chest with a sigh of her own. "Very well," she reluctantly accepts. "We have much to discuss on our way. I have yet to hear the full story of your final night at Rivington's Corner, after all."

He hums as he pulls away, straightening out his tunic with a dry, "It is quite a tale, I can assure you. I very nearly had a heart attack when James caught me altering the pamphlets halfway through."

Her eyes widen. Even despite the fact that he is standing there before her in one piece, they fill with worry. He shakes his head at the sight, heart overflowing with warmth, and, after a second's hesitation, leans back in to kiss her one last time before drawing back completely.

"We have plenty of time to speak of such things," he gently tells her, then adds in a more sarcastic tone, "For now, I ought to let you drag me off to the alter before you burst with impatience."

Margot laughs aloud at this, but notably doesn't attempt to deny the lighthearted accusation and merely chuckles, "Off with you, then, before I drag you there this very moment!"

With one last fond smile, he takes his leave of her for a short time, pulling on a fresh tunic and buttoning up his nicer waistcoat. Then, after shaving and fixing his queue, which had become somewhat untidy in the field, he returns downstairs. Margot is waiting outside on the porch for him, standing in the morning sunlight as she leans against the railing. Her chin is tucked upon her hand as she lingers there in a patch of dawn, and Robert wonders if he shall ever tire of the sight she makes. When she notices his presence in the doorway and turns to catch his eye with a quiet smile, he is convinced that he shall not.

"Why Mr. Townsend, I have never seen you so immaculately dressed before," she teases, and his heart gives yet another lurch – the first of many, today – in his chest.

Mr. Townsend's only response is to step toward her, offer his arm, and dryly respond, "You are an infuriating creature, Margot."

She beams at him for saying so, as if she thinks it is the greatest compliment of all. Then, taking his arm, she pulls him off the porch with a bright laugh.

Yes, she is infuriating. He thinks he rather loves her for it.

THE END

As always, it's a bit sad to finish a story when I've come to love writing Robert and Margot's characters so much, but I'm also very happy to have given them the ending I've envisioned. I hope you all enjoyed my venture into the TURN fandom. More stories of the like may arise in the future, specifically for Ben because I love him. If you're interested in me continuing with more TURN, feel free to leave a comment and let me know!

Thank you all so much for reading and commenting. As always, it's been a pleasure.

Much love,

Crashing Petals