Margaret, in her nightdress, sat at her vanity table in her private dressing room just off the master bedroom. After dismissing Dixon from her evening duties she brushed her hair with trembling hands.
The day was absolutely perfect and everything had gone off flawlessly. The church was beautiful, the ceremony moving, even the wedding breakfast was not so tedious as she might have expected. Now that the festivities were over and all the guests were gone Margaret and her new husband had retired for the evening.
To say that she was nervous was an understatement. She was terrified. Certainly she would never be afraid of John. She trusted him absolutely. It was the unknown that she was afraid of and for women of her station this was unknown. To even talk about it was improper so any womanly advice she had gotten from her aunt or even Edith was tempered and caged.
Margaret liked straightforwardness. It was one of the many qualities of the North that she had truly come to appreciate. It was John's unpretentiousness when speaking about his past that really started to soften her heart toward him. However, his forthrightness during his first proposal truly unsettled her and she reacted most regrettably. Then when she could not be open with him about her brother… well, that's when all hope for the future was lost.
The strictures of society did not allow for much directness in communication especially between members of the opposite sex. Therefore she was extremely happy when John was able to see her 'business proposal' for what it really was: an offering of her heart.
She was forced to play the propriety game, especially while living with her aunt in London, when what she really wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and tell him all her secrets. Realization dawned on her that now that they were married she could do just that!
Since their marriage should be based on that openness and honesty that she loved about him and the North she should employ that virtue this night. She should enter his room (soon since he has probably been waiting for her for some time), throw herself into his arms (his strong loving arms), and tell him of her fears. He will probably put her at ease immediately and all would be fine.
So she stood up and steadied her shaking legs by grabbing the back of her chair with a trembling hand. Her mental resolve was in place but her body hadn't caught on yet.
A drink, yes, she needed a drink of water to wet her parched throat. As she reached for Bessy's cup she thought, 'Ha! Bessy would be laughing uproariously at me right now.' That idea, along with the drink of water, calmed her a bit.
Setting the cup down she took a deep breath, lifted her chin and assumed that queenly bearing she knew he loved, and walked through the door to her husband's bedchambers.