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Everyone studied the ground for a long time. Outside, the wind ramped up and smashed against the window panes. When Marta looked at Laura once more, she noted the stony-nature of her cheeks, her forehead.
Suddenly, Laura spoke.
“I know that I’m not the daughter-in-law you might have planned for, Aunt Margaret,” she began.
Aunt Margaret looked at her bug-eyed. Marta laughed inwardly, remembering those first few encounters they’d had when Aunt Margaret had generally assumed the girl was a dunce.
“But I have fallen in love with your son. I don’t want to be with anyone else,” Laura said. “If you do not approve of our marriage, I will convince him to return with me to Austria. There, we will have more happiness, if only because we’ll be together. I know that Ewan will never truly get over leaving his country and you, however. And I suspect that you’ll never truly get over losing him, either.”
Aunt Margaret cleared her throat. “I never truly got over losing my sister. All those miles away. Our letters became fewer and further between. I ached, knowing that we would never be as close as we were when we were younger. But the thought of losing my son to the same stupid country…”
Laura and Marta locked eyes dangerously, yet both decided not to insist Aunt Margaret utilise a different tone. She would never understand Austria. This was something both of them would have to accept.
“Oh, goodness. You’ve really put me under such stress.” Aunt Margaret sighed. “But I suppose, ultimately, I must approve this union.” Slowly, Aunt Margaret stood and walked towards Laura.
Laura rose as well. The women regarded one another for nearly a full minute: eyes locked, jaws set. Marta had always known Laura to be a powerful, strong-willed human. Now, her eyes bulged from their sockets, and she seemed more than willing to fight for what she wanted.
This was the sort of thing a mother had to do, Marta thought.
Perhaps she would know soon enough.
Suddenly, Aunt Margaret drew her arms around Laura and hugged her close. Laura looked genuinely shocked. She kept her arms to her sides for a moment as Aunt Margaret huddled against her. Finally, Laura matched the hug.
In German, Laura said, “I will come to love you, Aunt Margaret. Mother Margaret. I truly will. Just give me time.”
“I don’t know what you said, Laura, but I imagine it had far more poetics to it than I can possibly comprehend,” Aunt Margaret returned.
On the floor, the boys giggled, having understood. Tatiana shushed them as the hug broke. When Aunt Margaret turned back, she brushed a tear to the side and beamed at Baldwin and Marta.
“That settles it,” she said. “Tomorrow, before Lord Remington’s wretched deadline, we will make the announcement. A double engagement! What house could be luckier?”
“And we’ll post the banns immediately afterwards!” Ewan cried.
Baldwin turned and kissed Marta’s cheek. Laura threw herself into Ewan’s arms and wept. Tatiana rushed to the cabinet to pour everyone another round of Scotch. Marta’s heart felt lighter, her head clearer, than they had in many years.
She would marry the love of her life.
She wouldn’t be scorned.
Ewan and Laura would remain on in England, and Laura would be her equal, her sister-in-law! It was all so splendid, so outside of her understanding of the severity of time, that Marta yearned to drop her forehead against Baldwin’s chest and heave with tears.
But there wasn’t time. There was only time for celebration, for plotting, for ridding themselves of Lord Remington once and for all and finding space for the true love they’d crafted together.
The following day, as discussed, the Thompsons announced the double engagement between Marta Schnitzler and Baldwin Terrence and Ewan and his pregnant bride, Laura.
Several days after, Marta and Laura appeared in the village to shop for a wedding gown for Laura, as Ewan and Laura needed to rush to the alter. While there, Marta and Laura felt every eye upon them. Gossip swirled.
“Yes. I heard that Lord Remington was so enraged at Baldwin and Marta’s engagement announcement that he broke half the plates in his mother’s fine-china cabinet,” one woman whispered.
“I heard that Ewan’s fiancé is already pregnant. It’s why they must hurry to the alter,” another woman returned.
“My goodness! They’ve taken on as much gossip as they can, haven’t they?” the other said. “I suppose Marta brought it with her from Austria. She’s that sort of woman, isn’t she? The sort to bring laughter and colour, certainly … but always with a dash of drama.”
“I spoke with her briefly at a party,” the other said. “She was altogether lovely. I haven’t spoken at all with her maid … Ewan’s soon-to-be wife…”
“Oh! What a scandal.”
Laura gripped Marta’s elbow and flashed her eyes towards the women ominously.
