Roses and Lace

Chapter 6

Edith Lennox, nee Shaw, was overall quite pleased with the results of her dinner party. Even with the addition of Henry and his unexpected guest, the arrangement of personalities and interests had come off splendidly. Indeed, Edith had been gratified to find that, Mr. Colthurst, for all his worldly sophistication, had been engrossed in conversation with the newcomer, Mr. Thornton. The latter gentleman had a refined, somber sort of elegance about him, for all the roughness of his northern tongue. He spoke quietly and with dignity, and though he seemed to give Mr. Colthurst his deep attention, Edith noticed that he kept stealing glances at Margaret.

Margaret. Edith raised her eyebrows slightly and took a deep breath. Now, Margaret... Margaret presented Edith with growing concern.

As Edith had hoped, Margaret had indeed joined them for the party, and she had looked resplendent in her golden gown with deep red flowers showing off her auburn hair. She had looked even more elegant and charming than usual, speaking little and sporting a rosy blush.

Edith worried that perhaps she had been wrong to urge Margaret into coming. Margaret was never so quiet - not, that is, without some arch to her brow that suggested she was keeping her more pointed observations to herself. And that disturbing flush. She had looked almost feverish. Edith worried that perhaps Margaret was becoming truly ill.

Edith didn't want to contemplate serious illness in Margaret. Margaret had always been a source of limitless strength, from the time they were girls, through their separation after Edith's marriage, with Margaret in that horrid manufacturing town, and now that she had finally returned. Margaret was her sister and friend and confidante. Margaret was becoming a second mother to her own children. Margaret deserved comfort and love and...

Margaret deserved happiness.

Later, after the party had moved into the drawing room, Edith had found herself watching Margaret again. It was hardly unusual for a visiting gentleman to rest his eyes on Edith's cousin with some regularity, but if Mr. Thornton stole a few glances, Edith finally noticed that it was Margaret who hardly took her eyes off of their northern guest.

When Henry had first spoken of Mr. Thornton, Edith had wondered if Margaret might perhaps have come across him during her time in Milton, but somehow it never occurred to her that they might have anything more than a passing acquaintance.

But the way that Margaret was watching him... There was nothing desperate or accusatory. Nothing... flagrant. Just a quiet sort of... longing. She watched him as one might take in the endless blues of the Mediterranean Sea. As if she would never grow tired of looking at him.

And Mr. Thornton... Edith noticed him step away from Mr. Colthurst, once, to speak a few words to Margaret. The way he stepped softly, directly toward her, and spoke gently to her with no preamble whatsoever... It was as if, somehow, he'd been conversing with her the whole time.

Then both his glances and his silences took on new meaning. For the rest of the party, Edith could tell that, no matter what was happening or who was speaking, Margaret and Mr. Thornton moved and spoke and looked in constant awareness of each other.

As the evening drew to a close, Edith found a chance to stand next to her brother-in-law. From the way that Henry was watching Margaret and from his sour expression, she could tell that he had seen what she had seen.

"Oh, Henry," she sighed. "I had so hoped..."

"Indeed, your frustration at someone's natural affections going in a direction that is inconvenient for you must be most distressing. You have my deepest sympathy."

He would be sarcastic. Knowing him, it would be years before some other woman might have a chance to break through his shell. Edith paid no mind to his tone. "I just hate to lose her again."

And then she had to blink tears away from her eyes. But just a few moments after that she was lovely young Mrs. Lennox again, gracious hostess, in time to bid farewell to their guests.

Edith pretended not to see Mr. Thornton hold onto Margaret's hand for a few, prolonged seconds, while Margaret simply gazed at him, and then kept gazing after him as he walked away.

The next day Margaret and Henry occupied the study for what seemed like hours, going over all sorts of things to do with business and leases and banks and laws. Edith only caught a few words here and there as she went about following after her children or inquiring about tea. She noticed that Margaret was more animated than Edith had seen her in months, ever since her return from Milton. It would normally have thrilled Edith to see Margaret working so closely with Henry, but instead she was full of foreboding.

When Henry finally pulled her aside and told her that he would return with Mr. Thornton on the morrow for a meeting, Edith felt nothing but a grim lack of surprise.

"And please arrange to let us have the study undisturbed. In general, the children and servants are so in and out, that I can never get any business satisfactorily explained; and the arrangements we have to make tomorrow are of importance."

Edith raised an eyebrow at this, but Henry had already brushed past her and was walking bruskly toward the front door. He put on his hat in a determined motion, and Edith somehow felt that he was hiding some deep hurt.

Margaret spent the next hour in a state of distraction and finally retired to her room. Edith wanted to speak with her, wanted to tell her that... She had seen the way Margaret looked at Mr. Thornton, and though her heart ached at the thought of losing Margaret... How lonely the house would be. Even bustling with children and friends... There was a gravity to Margaret that brought everything into balance.

But Margaret deserved every happiness.

Edith did not think that she could muster up enough courage to put on a face of her own happiness, yet, on Margaret's behalf. So it was just as well that Margaret kept to her room, and if Edith herself was quieter than usual that evening, Sholto did not remark upon it.