The Way to a Lady's Heart
"Milady."
Margaret looked up from her book. Sue Ann Miller, the Housekeeper stood before her, her skirts tucked under her in a deep curtsey. A pang of fear thrilled through her heart. Margaret always felt this pause when she was approached by the Housekeeper unawares, as she knew full well the busybody carried news of everything she saw to her mother, who was the only person she answered to. To add to the worry, seeing Sue Ann meant she was being summoned to her mother's presence, again for the second time that day. Unusual--to say the least.
"Begging your pardon, ma'am. Her ladyship requests you."
Margaret tucked the volume of poetry into the pocket of her skirt, hoping that Sue Ann would forget she'd seen it. Well, there wasn't much chance of that, but for now, Margaret just wondered what her mother wanted with her. It had only been a few hours since they'd parted in the drawing room, and Margaret had promised she would visit the chapel to be confessed. She noted the sun drawing toward the horizon. Well, that would have to wait until the morrow, Margaret winced, standing.
Sue Ann Miller stood her ground in deepest deference, her face blank.
"You may go. I will see her." Margaret felt a trickle of irritation pushing the fear from her. Was she not a woman of mature years herself?
"Begging your ladyship's pardon, but I was instructed--"
"Very well." There was no use arguing with a servant. She adjusted her bodice, smoothed her hair and gave a practiced half-nod to release the Housekeeper's obeisance.
Margaret looked up from her book. Sue Ann Miller, the Housekeeper stood before her, her skirts tucked under her in a deep curtsey. A pang of fear thrilled through her heart. Margaret always felt this pause when she was approached by the Housekeeper unawares, as she knew full well the busybody carried news of everything she saw to her mother, who was the only person she answered to. To add to the worry, seeing Sue Ann meant she was being summoned to her mother's presence, again for the second time that day. Unusual--to say the least.
"Begging your pardon, ma'am. Her ladyship requests you."
Margaret tucked the volume of poetry into the pocket of her skirt, hoping that Sue Ann would forget she'd seen it. Well, there wasn't much chance of that, but for now, Margaret just wondered what her mother wanted with her. It had only been a few hours since they'd parted in the drawing room, and Margaret had promised she would visit the chapel to be confessed. She noted the sun drawing toward the horizon. Well, that would have to wait until the morrow, Margaret winced, standing.
Sue Ann Miller stood her ground in deepest deference, her face blank.
"You may go. I will see her." Margaret felt a trickle of irritation pushing the fear from her. Was she not a woman of mature years herself?
"Begging your ladyship's pardon, but I was instructed--"
"Very well." There was no use arguing with a servant. She adjusted her bodice, smoothed her hair and gave a practiced half-nod to release the Housekeeper's obeisance.
Margaret drew her breath in close and pinched her cheeks. Had she been given time, she would have arranged her hair before returning to the manor. Looking her best in her mother's presence was not simply a good idea, it was a requirement. She entered the drawing room, her eyes searching the floor.
But, when she looked up, it was Lord Percival's, her father's, gaze she met. She certainly hadn't been prepared for this. Somehow, she felt betrayed by her mother's ploy.
"Your Grace." Margaret curtseyed and waited to be recognized.
"Daughter. Make yourself comfortable." He motioned her to a sofa chair.
Margaret let her knees sink into the cushioned chair, and waited to hear why she had been summoned so abruptly into her father's presence. She tried not to think about the last time she'd seen her father, perhaps a year ago, in this very room, where he'd renewed his insistence upon her that she accept the hand of one of the lords he'd found to wed her. A marriage for Margaret had been his highest hope since her fourteenth year when her first betrothed, the young Marquis of Albany died suddenly of fever. Everyone, thankfully, had mistaken her tears of relief for unquenchable grief, and had thought her subsequent refusals of every other lord to be a girl's foolish loyalty to her first love. Nothing could have been further from the truth. After she passed her thirtieth year, she had thought all pressure to marry would surely be placed upon her young nieces, but as she'd discovered again and again, her father's ambition was not so easily staunched. He still had plans for her.
"Are you well, Daughter?" Lord Percival's eyes sparked.
"Yes, milord."
"You will be pleased, I should think, to know that his lordship, the Duke of Wilshire sends his love."
"The Duke ... of Wilshire?" Margaret stifled a tear. He was an old man, seventy if he was a year. How could her father, even in his wildest ambition, think she would ever--?
"I see from your countenance that this news moves you sadly."
"Your Grace." Margaret dropped her eyes to hide the tears which threatened to break perforce from her closed eyes.
"You will meet His Lordship on the morrow."
Margaret lifted her eyes, and bit tears back hard enough to draw blood. There were no refusals where her father was concerned.
"His Lordship's retinue is expected this night." Lord Percival turned his eyes away from his daughter, a signal that she might rise and go.
But, when she looked up, it was Lord Percival's, her father's, gaze she met. She certainly hadn't been prepared for this. Somehow, she felt betrayed by her mother's ploy.
"Your Grace." Margaret curtseyed and waited to be recognized.
"Daughter. Make yourself comfortable." He motioned her to a sofa chair.
Margaret let her knees sink into the cushioned chair, and waited to hear why she had been summoned so abruptly into her father's presence. She tried not to think about the last time she'd seen her father, perhaps a year ago, in this very room, where he'd renewed his insistence upon her that she accept the hand of one of the lords he'd found to wed her. A marriage for Margaret had been his highest hope since her fourteenth year when her first betrothed, the young Marquis of Albany died suddenly of fever. Everyone, thankfully, had mistaken her tears of relief for unquenchable grief, and had thought her subsequent refusals of every other lord to be a girl's foolish loyalty to her first love. Nothing could have been further from the truth. After she passed her thirtieth year, she had thought all pressure to marry would surely be placed upon her young nieces, but as she'd discovered again and again, her father's ambition was not so easily staunched. He still had plans for her.
"Are you well, Daughter?" Lord Percival's eyes sparked.
"Yes, milord."
"You will be pleased, I should think, to know that his lordship, the Duke of Wilshire sends his love."
"The Duke ... of Wilshire?" Margaret stifled a tear. He was an old man, seventy if he was a year. How could her father, even in his wildest ambition, think she would ever--?
"I see from your countenance that this news moves you sadly."
"Your Grace." Margaret dropped her eyes to hide the tears which threatened to break perforce from her closed eyes.
"You will meet His Lordship on the morrow."
Margaret lifted her eyes, and bit tears back hard enough to draw blood. There were no refusals where her father was concerned.
"His Lordship's retinue is expected this night." Lord Percival turned his eyes away from his daughter, a signal that she might rise and go.
Later, as her maid undressed her, Margaret realized that she had no idea how she'd made her way back to the door, or for that matter to her chambers. Thankfully, Igonia appeared not to notice her distress as she combed her hair in long, smooth strokes. It was hours before her thoughts quelled and she found her way to a light sleep.
Margaret rose early and bathed. She steeled herself against the worst. Perhaps Divine Providence would find it possible to grace her with the death of another suitor. After all, His Lordship was quite old, and perhaps feeble. She cheered herself as best she could on the long walk to the receiving room. She could have wished her walk to be more lonely and cheerless, but alas, at every step the entire household was in an uproar making preparations to receive his lordship, the Duke. Thankfully, no one paid any mind to her or troubled themselves to notice the lines wrought in her cheeks by her sleepless night.
She walked in, ready to meet with the worst that fate could offer her.
Only Lord Everett, her brother, was there to receive her. His bright greeting did nothing to cheer her.
"Sister, be cheered. Verily, today you shall be made a very happy woman."
Margaret choked back tears, this time of rage and impotence. What did Everett know?
"I never shall marry, Everett. I care not for a woman's happiness."
She walked in, ready to meet with the worst that fate could offer her.
Only Lord Everett, her brother, was there to receive her. His bright greeting did nothing to cheer her.
"Sister, be cheered. Verily, today you shall be made a very happy woman."
Margaret choked back tears, this time of rage and impotence. What did Everett know?
"I never shall marry, Everett. I care not for a woman's happiness."
"Margaret, how can you say such things? In the presence of your new sister."
"New sister? Everett, you shall have to explain yourself."
Lord Everett chuckled, an infectious and childish laughter that hardly befit a man of his age and stature.
"May I introduce you, dear Sister, to the Lady Lislotte d'Aubergine."
Margaret noticed, for the first time, a woman of striking beauty standing in the shadows behind her brother.
"Your Ladyship." Margaret declined her head slightly. How could a young woman of her age be the Duke's sister? Surely such pranks were not amusing, and this was beyond what even her brother, the light-hearted Everett was wont to do.
"New sister? Everett, you shall have to explain yourself."
Lord Everett chuckled, an infectious and childish laughter that hardly befit a man of his age and stature.
"May I introduce you, dear Sister, to the Lady Lislotte d'Aubergine."
Margaret noticed, for the first time, a woman of striking beauty standing in the shadows behind her brother.
"Your Ladyship." Margaret declined her head slightly. How could a young woman of her age be the Duke's sister? Surely such pranks were not amusing, and this was beyond what even her brother, the light-hearted Everett was wont to do.
"Your Lordship should not tease his poor sister."
Everett laughed aloud, throwing his hands into the air.
"Tease you? I assure you, I am perfectly honest."
"I -- am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Lislotte."
"The pleasure is mine," returned Lady Lislotte.
"I think we've all gotten the wrong impression here," Everett said good naturedly, trying to smooth over the awkward introductions, as was his nature.
"Not at all, milord." Lady Lislotte kindly offered, her face soft and gentle.
Margaret wished she could return the affection, but her heart was stone in her chest and she fought against weakening her resolve.
Lady Lislotte turned to leave, and Everett showed her to the door, lavishing her with all manner of niceties.
Everett laughed aloud, throwing his hands into the air.
"Tease you? I assure you, I am perfectly honest."
"I -- am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Lislotte."
"The pleasure is mine," returned Lady Lislotte.
"I think we've all gotten the wrong impression here," Everett said good naturedly, trying to smooth over the awkward introductions, as was his nature.
"Not at all, milord." Lady Lislotte kindly offered, her face soft and gentle.
Margaret wished she could return the affection, but her heart was stone in her chest and she fought against weakening her resolve.
Lady Lislotte turned to leave, and Everett showed her to the door, lavishing her with all manner of niceties.
.
"Dear Sister, why are you so adamantly opposed to this match? Really, I think Father has outdone himself this time. And to be rude to a Lady of such high standing. It's not like you." Everett shrugged, clearly confused.
Margaret seethed, no longer caring if anyone knew her true feelings.
"I cannot believe you would dare say such a thing to me, Everett--even you, in your oblivious comfort, not to see the depth of my despair. Yes, perhaps you have forgotten what it is like to feel sorrow, but I have not."
"I really don't understand how you can continue to nurse a girlish affection for a young lord long dead. No one thinks to question your loyalty--or your chastity."
"Oh, Everett--dearest brother. Think you, too, to throw that in my face?
Margaret seethed, no longer caring if anyone knew her true feelings.
"I cannot believe you would dare say such a thing to me, Everett--even you, in your oblivious comfort, not to see the depth of my despair. Yes, perhaps you have forgotten what it is like to feel sorrow, but I have not."
"I really don't understand how you can continue to nurse a girlish affection for a young lord long dead. No one thinks to question your loyalty--or your chastity."
"Oh, Everett--dearest brother. Think you, too, to throw that in my face?
I assure you that is not my concern. I have forgotten him years ago." Margaret let the words fall from her mouth unbidden.
"Then, what --- why-- do you refuse to marry?"
"I shan't have some old goat for a husband!" she spat the words from her mouth like tar. "I don't care if the Duke is a powerful man or if he has all the wealth of the West Sea in his possession. I care nothing for politics, nothing for power." Margaret turned away to hide her tears, which flowed freely in torrents down her face.
"Then, what --- why-- do you refuse to marry?"
"I shan't have some old goat for a husband!" she spat the words from her mouth like tar. "I don't care if the Duke is a powerful man or if he has all the wealth of the West Sea in his possession. I care nothing for politics, nothing for power." Margaret turned away to hide her tears, which flowed freely in torrents down her face.
"Take comfort, Sister. If that is all, then you shall have nothing to fear from the Duke of Wilshire!" Everett laughed infectiously, unable now to contain himself.
"I'm sure I don't follow your meaning, Everett. He is known to be of very advanced age. The hair upon his head is snowy white and his gout pains him. He cannot even move, but must be carried. I --" Margaret broke off, unable to continue for the rage mounting in her, motivated by Everett's insipid laughter that rolled across the room, unchecked.
"Fear not, Sister. His Lordship, the aged Duke of Wilshire, has met his reward from Divine Providence. He was led to rest last springtime. It is his son who asks your hand."
"I'm sure I don't follow your meaning, Everett. He is known to be of very advanced age. The hair upon his head is snowy white and his gout pains him. He cannot even move, but must be carried. I --" Margaret broke off, unable to continue for the rage mounting in her, motivated by Everett's insipid laughter that rolled across the room, unchecked.
"Fear not, Sister. His Lordship, the aged Duke of Wilshire, has met his reward from Divine Providence. He was led to rest last springtime. It is his son who asks your hand."
"His son?"
"Yes. His son."
"Fine. I shall meet him. But I shall not marry him."
"Yes. His son."
"Fine. I shall meet him. But I shall not marry him."
It was hours before the Duke arrived, and night was drawing near when Margaret was finally summoned to receive the young lord. As she neared the receiving room, she steeled herself against the knight she would meet there, feeling now that her heart was stalwart and impenetrable.
"I never shall marry," she repeated with every step, her feet barely touching the cold stone floors in the long passageway. "I shall be no man's wife," she continued, reassuring herself of her resolve. "I shall have my heart. My heart is my own." Such were the thoughts that carried her to the receiving room.
Though she had thought she would pause to collect herself at the door, her thoughts pounded with such force that she quite forgot, and before she knew it, she found herself standing in the receiving room, breathless, her heart fluttering.
"I never shall marry," she repeated with every step, her feet barely touching the cold stone floors in the long passageway. "I shall be no man's wife," she continued, reassuring herself of her resolve. "I shall have my heart. My heart is my own." Such were the thoughts that carried her to the receiving room.
Though she had thought she would pause to collect herself at the door, her thoughts pounded with such force that she quite forgot, and before she knew it, she found herself standing in the receiving room, breathless, her heart fluttering.
.
Suddenly, all that she had thought to say quite left her, and she stood speechless as her gaze moved over the tall knight who stood before her.
The silence between them grew taut, and quite suddenly Margaret felt herself flushed and faint. She would not let this young noble see into her heart: he must not confuse her. He was simply the last of the a long line of disappointed suitors who had vied lucklessly for her hand, and like the rest, he would leave as he had come, without her. She was quite committed to her course of remaining a maid for the rest of her life.
"Milady." The young Duke's voice was solid, sure.
"Milord," Margaret returned, bowing her head imperceptibly.
The silence between them grew taut, and quite suddenly Margaret felt herself flushed and faint. She would not let this young noble see into her heart: he must not confuse her. He was simply the last of the a long line of disappointed suitors who had vied lucklessly for her hand, and like the rest, he would leave as he had come, without her. She was quite committed to her course of remaining a maid for the rest of her life.
"Milady." The young Duke's voice was solid, sure.
"Milord," Margaret returned, bowing her head imperceptibly.
He bowed, wordless. His chain mail clinked quietly, as he bent at the waist, and it flashed upon Margaret's heart that he was truly a bold and valiant knight, worthy of her attention.
.
Head bowed, he spoke the gentle words of love that ladies are wont to hear, beginning with, "My lady, your grace honors me to hear my suit of love." Margaret stood, unmoved, but listened further.
"My travels have taken me far and wide, beyond West Sea, to the Far Lands. I have fought the infidels; I have defended Divine Providence; I have had the pleasure to acquaint myself with fine ladies both fair and brown, but none, Lady are so fine and pure as thee."
But these were not the words Margaret wished to hear, for these professions of love were now familiar to her. Gallantry was not the path to her heart, for she had closed her heart to love.
She responded firmly, without emotion, "Please, my lord, you must not kneel. We have not yet met. We know each other not."
"My travels have taken me far and wide, beyond West Sea, to the Far Lands. I have fought the infidels; I have defended Divine Providence; I have had the pleasure to acquaint myself with fine ladies both fair and brown, but none, Lady are so fine and pure as thee."
But these were not the words Margaret wished to hear, for these professions of love were now familiar to her. Gallantry was not the path to her heart, for she had closed her heart to love.
She responded firmly, without emotion, "Please, my lord, you must not kneel. We have not yet met. We know each other not."
"I know thee to be a lady of gentle birth and of fine understanding." The strength of his gaze and the certainty in his voice disarmed Margaret, but still she was studied in such speech. The many tales of courtly love had taught her the mysteries of love, and she was ready with her answer before thinking.
"There are many ladies, my lord. I have no manners or breeding to set me apart from my sisters in Love's army. Perhaps you may find your suit to have more success elsewhere."
"Verily, it is true that there are many ladies whose fine birth and breeding commend them much to me. Some are fair of hair, others are fine of voice, still others are mild in complexion. Many others besides possess the grace of Venus, the beauty of Aphrodite, and the heat of Eros, but none, in all the land, Lady are so fine or fair as you. For in you resides the consummation of all the beauty, grace, and understanding of these other loves, who now seem common and coarse in comparison with you."
Many ladies not so mature and experienced as Margaret would have been moved to pity by such frank speech, but not Margaret. She knew the proper response, and returned without hesitation:
"My lord, if such be true, then surely you shall be miserable for ever, for in placing me upon a high pedestal, you have already removed me from love's court, where I have vowed never to serve. I shall be a maid of Venus, and shall serve Love as a loyal advisor, and not as a conquest for his army."
"Then truly my suit of love is blest, for if thou art a true advisor, you must give wise counsel and advise love's court that my suit is honorable and worthy above all others."
"If your suit is worthy above all others, then surely it is lost. Think you to place yourself above Love's law? For Love has spoken that it is dishonorable to deny the worthiness of every other suitor's case, in deference to your own."
"This may be, Lady. Where other suits are pending."
"There are many ladies, my lord. I have no manners or breeding to set me apart from my sisters in Love's army. Perhaps you may find your suit to have more success elsewhere."
"Verily, it is true that there are many ladies whose fine birth and breeding commend them much to me. Some are fair of hair, others are fine of voice, still others are mild in complexion. Many others besides possess the grace of Venus, the beauty of Aphrodite, and the heat of Eros, but none, in all the land, Lady are so fine or fair as you. For in you resides the consummation of all the beauty, grace, and understanding of these other loves, who now seem common and coarse in comparison with you."
Many ladies not so mature and experienced as Margaret would have been moved to pity by such frank speech, but not Margaret. She knew the proper response, and returned without hesitation:
"My lord, if such be true, then surely you shall be miserable for ever, for in placing me upon a high pedestal, you have already removed me from love's court, where I have vowed never to serve. I shall be a maid of Venus, and shall serve Love as a loyal advisor, and not as a conquest for his army."
"Then truly my suit of love is blest, for if thou art a true advisor, you must give wise counsel and advise love's court that my suit is honorable and worthy above all others."
"If your suit is worthy above all others, then surely it is lost. Think you to place yourself above Love's law? For Love has spoken that it is dishonorable to deny the worthiness of every other suitor's case, in deference to your own."
"This may be, Lady. Where other suits are pending."
Margaret hesitated, unsure how to proceed.
"Your arguments are reasonable enough, if only my heart would submit to my will. But I find that heart is wayward and confused, and unwilling to bow before Love's suit. To be conquered by Love may seem to be a delightful subjugation, but to me it is only odious servitude, to be avoided at all costs."
"Your arguments are reasonable enough, if only my heart would submit to my will. But I find that heart is wayward and confused, and unwilling to bow before Love's suit. To be conquered by Love may seem to be a delightful subjugation, but to me it is only odious servitude, to be avoided at all costs."
"Then surely my case is lost, and Love has designed for me to be a solitary knight in his army, fighting always for another's cause. I shall die in penury and waste, denied my heart's only comfort."
"Then perhaps in solitude we shall find the solace of each other's company." Margaret took his outstretched hands into her own, feeling the strength and warmth of his grasp.
"Lady, I ask for nothing so much as the friendship of your society and the grace of your presence."
"Lady, I ask for nothing so much as the friendship of your society and the grace of your presence."
"Then verily, we shall be confidants in love's army, sharing the trust of friendship and the fruit of companionship." Margaret smiled, offering her hands to the Duke's lips.
"Such is the foundation of true love, Lady, and the bedrock for faithful marriage."
"If these be your definitions of Love, my Lord, then truly I shall hear your suit of Love and I shall commend my heart to my will in everlasting duty to your quest."
"Then my happiness is assured and I shall not waste away, denied love's comfort."
"My lord, I shall join your cause, and defend you against the ravages of this world. In your embrace, I shall find the solace of friendship and the comfort of understanding. But I fear, my Lord, I have only one question now to ask."
"Yes, my Lady?"
"What is your name by Divine Providence?"
"Michel. I am christened Michel Auguste d'Aubergine."
"And I, milord, am pleased to make your acquaintance. I am christened Margarete Blance Dernier."
"Such is the foundation of true love, Lady, and the bedrock for faithful marriage."
"If these be your definitions of Love, my Lord, then truly I shall hear your suit of Love and I shall commend my heart to my will in everlasting duty to your quest."
"Then my happiness is assured and I shall not waste away, denied love's comfort."
"My lord, I shall join your cause, and defend you against the ravages of this world. In your embrace, I shall find the solace of friendship and the comfort of understanding. But I fear, my Lord, I have only one question now to ask."
"Yes, my Lady?"
"What is your name by Divine Providence?"
"Michel. I am christened Michel Auguste d'Aubergine."
"And I, milord, am pleased to make your acquaintance. I am christened Margarete Blance Dernier."
So it was that Lord Michel found his way to Margaret's heart, through friendship's door, and Margaret found a knight, loyal and true, whose suit of love pleased her father much.