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“Trust that I do know him. I feel as though I have known him all of my life.”
“Margaret, I am the one that has known him all of my life, and I fear that I do not know him at all. Nor do I understand him.”
Margaret was unsure of how to respond to this. It was peculiar how someone could feel such an affinity towards another whilst another encounters the same person and feels as though they know them not. But Margaret did not have the heart to explain all of this to Jane. For the time being, she wished to have Jane’s blessing.
“I know that it sounds a trifle silly,” Margaret began, “but it would bring me joy if you… supported us in some measure.”
Jane closed her eyes tight. “Of course, I support you, Margaret.” She opened her eyes and took Margaret’s hands. “But do be careful. There is so much danger involved in this.”
“I know.”
The timing being ripe, there was a footfall in the hallway once more, and Margaret’s heart leaped, thinking that it might be John returning. But, sadly, it was the viscount who stopped in the door of the parlor.
“Good morning,” her father said, appearing very sober. “Margaret, we have much to discuss at supper this evening.”
“Very well, father,” Margaret said, pulling her hands away from Jane. As was always the case, the remembrance of her father’s wicked plan returned, and Margaret felt that familiar sensation of dread. But she must remind herself that John wished to come to her rescue! This was enough to inspire the sincerest hope.
“Are you to tell your father this evening?” Jane whispered after the viscount had fled.
“No, it is too soon for that.”
“Then when? I shall need to be nearby in case the situation becomes desperate.”
“I do not know when,” Margaret replied plaintively.
There was so much to consider, and there was so little time on their hands. Margaret had heard nothing more regarding Lord Darkmoor, and she secretly hoped that the man had made a decision on his own and sought to marry another. At least, that would afford Margaret more time. But it seemed as though John wished to proceed with haste, and for that, she was grateful. There was a glimmer of hope on the horizon.
“Come, let us get you dressed for tea,” Jane remarked.
Margaret gazed down at her simple muslin gown. “I wish to wear this until supper.”
“Whatever for?”
Margaret shrugged. “It is exceedingly comfortable.”
This was a fib. Margaret wished to wear the gown longer because she wanted to delight in how John looked at her whilst she wore it. His eyes had been hungry, reminding Margaret of how wonderful it would be one day to lounge in a comfortable gown all day long, not having to worry about what her husband thought. John would be that kind of husband.
Oh, but she could not think of that now! If Margaret allowed her imagination to take hold too strongly, she would be terribly disappointed if everything came to naught. No, she would remain focused on the difficult journey ahead, and the image of John’s face, and the feeling of his lips pressed against hers, would give her strength.
Margaret excused herself, saying that she wished to retire to her room in silence. Jane complied, stating that she would help the cook slice the cheese in the kitchens. Margaret nearly ran back to her room, thinking of all the wonderful memories that had been created in the parlor that morning.
Unable to help herself, she composed a letter to be delivered to the inn. She felt as though she had arrived at the moment where she wished to speak with John every second. Picking up the quill pen, Margaret composed the letter with haste.
Dearest John,
There is much that I must say here, for each time we are together, the time is so brief, and I fear that I cannot express everything that I feel. Trust that I am wild for you. I long for you, and I dream about you. I do not know how we will get my father to back away, and I am also unsure how he might agree to such a match, but I am willing to try with my whole heart.
If you will allow me to be bold, John, I feel as though I am transported each time that we kiss. It is as though the world goes silent, and there is no one else in the world but yourself. I have never experienced this sensation before, and I find it most awe-inspiring. I do hope that you feel the same.
My father has stated that he wishes to have an important conversation with me this evening, and this fills me with the customary dread. Who knows what he has up his sleeve this time? I sincerely hope that it is not more news about Lord Darkmoor, for that topic destroys my soul.
Oh, but I think that Jane might just support us! If she is the one who delivers this letter, then she might explain all. I told her of my fondness, and she expressed that the situation is dangerous, but for me, the most dangerous outcome is not being with you! I wish for you to have me, John—body, and soul. I hope that that is what you long for, and from your ardency, I sense that it is.
All of my love,
Margaret
As she folded the letter, Margaret considered that it might have been too bold to say everything she’d said. But somehow, she knew that John felt the same. He had expressed as much. Oh, but what if she was a fool? There had to be a reason that Jane expressed the reservations that she had. She somehow thought that her brother was not dependable. Were there elements in John’s character that Margaret could not see nor understand?
