Chapter 23
“I am so happy that you are home,” her mother, Delfine, Lady de Beauchamp said, sending a platter of meat down the table for Margaret to help herself. “Were you able to eat well in the Germanies?”
“More than well,” Margaret said, lifting a piece of roasted fowl with the tongs. “I tried so many things. I must describe to Mrs. Ball about hamburgers. They are like a trencher with cooked beef and further bread on top, but small, sized for the hand. They are very tasty, and convenient to eat.”
“Food is not about convenience,” her mother said, with a sniff.
“It can be,” Nat said, hardly looking up from his plate. He always shoveled in his food as fast as he could, with an eye toward getting to the remains of his favorite dishes before the others could. He and James both had been eying the same platter of roasted potatoes. From the wicked look on his face, Margaret assumed that James meant to empty the plate before their younger brother could do the same.
“What are the Americans like?” Petronella asked. At ten, she was the youngest, and had had her name bestowed upon her by a godparent who had herself had a difficult childbirth. Another awkward silence fell.
“Why do you think I visited the Americans?” Margaret said at last. Her sister opened wide hazel eyes at her.
“Well, didn’t you? Like last year. You saw them in the Tower before they left and the castle was destroyed. Why else would you go to Germany? James does all the trading overseas.”
“She has been empowered by your father to do business on his behalf,” Lady de Beauchamp said, with a gentle smile. “As she is rising twenty, she should have more communication with our trading partners, like the German merchants, as she must learn to take on more of the burden of our business interests. Until she marries, of course.”
Petronella’s nose turned red, as it did when she was upset. She knew the adults were lying to her.
“If you never trust me, how will you ever know if I can keep secrets?” she asked.
“There are safe secrets and dangerous ones,” Mother said. “We have told you not to mention the Americans outside of the house or where anyone else can overhear.” She glanced nervously at the housemaid, Gilly. The girl, eyes carefully cast down, busied herself at the sideboard with a covered dish.
“I don’t! And the servants don’t count.”
Delfine was outraged, and pink rose in her thin cheeks. “Petra! Yes, they do. They are our employees and they are worthy of your respect. As am I and your father. You are talking back, and that is not permitted. Now, leave the table and go to your room.”
“Mama!”
Mother cast her eyes toward heaven as if her youngest daughter was too much of a burden to bear. “Go, little one. I will come up to talk with you later about your manners.”
Margaret sent an apologetic glance toward Gilly. The corners of the girl’s mouth were set in a polite smile. After her experiences in Magdeburg, Margaret was newly sensitive as to how much hurt the language could cause. But the others had not seen what she had, so she put aside the discussion until later.
In the meanwhile, she saw the expression on her father’s face. His thoughts were the same as hers. If the smaller children had worked out the truth about her journey, others would have put two and two together, and come up with much the same conclusion. She had only been safe because they were so far outside of London that a wayward word wouldn’t cause trouble. Few in the area cared what transpired. They could count upon their friends and employees to keep their thoughts to themselves, for the sake of self-interest, if no other. More likely, pure apathy. No one would waste consideration on whether the squire’s daughter had ventured abroad, as long as she came home safely. Where she had been was of little interest, as long as nothing changed.
But she meant for change to come. Everything going on in Magdeburg bettered the lives of the people that it touched. The new technology could bring prosperity to her and her family.
Or not. It might also be an unmitigated disaster to bring Americans to Barlaston. In no time, it would become evident that their new manufacture was using tools that could not have been invented in England. In order to make use of the aqualators that she and Aaron had designed together, the de Beauchamps would have to take more people into their confidence. The more people who knew their secret, the more danger they faced. But the alternative was bankruptcy, disgrace, or worse. Her mother’s health was delicate. She might not survive the uproar that would come with exposure and shame.
Margaret regretted her haste in making arrangements that would upset the family and risk its safety. Curse the status quo for its obduracy. She ate the last bites of pheasant and potato on her plate without tasting them, and set the utensils down.
At last, Sir Timothy signaled that his family could rise from the table. He nodded politely to Mrs. Ball. The housekeeper flicked an impatient hand at the other servants, who set themselves to clearing and cleaning.
Margaret retreated to her room with her thoughts. Everything had seemed so clear in Magdeburg! Truth to tell, she had not considered the reality of life in Barlaston. The dreams that reading Lady Mailey’s books in the United States of Europe engendered seemed as though they would take so little to make real. However, she had failed to take human nature into account, even her own. What a fool she had been!
“Mistress, will you join your lady mother in the parlor this evening?” Hettie asked, leaning in at the door. “She is sitting up for a time, Elspeth told me.”
“No, Hettie, thank you. I think I will just go to bed.”
“All right, then. Let me help you off with your things.”
Margaret felt rather like a doll as her maid unfastened her overdress and chemise and helped her into her night dress. She sat on the edge of the bed, watching Hettie brushing out the clothes and hanging them on pegs. Back to normal, with no machines, ladies kept out of most public places, and the taxes clipping little bits from them day after day, month after month, quarter after quarter. She sighed. Year after year.
When she had finished with the clothes, Hettie set down the clothes brush and came to untie the curls in Margaret’s hair. Margaret closed her eyes at the soothing feeling of the comb passing through her tresses, as if Hettie was drawing out the troubles she felt.
A little voice came from the corridor.
“Margery? I’m sorry.”
Margaret opened her eyes. Petra hovered in the doorway. She also wore her linen night dress, and her long brown hair flowed down over her shoulders. Margaret held out a hand to her, and her young sister ran to her embrace.
“It’s all right,” Margaret said, kissing the top of the child’s head. “We can’t help it that you’re observant. But you must learn to exercise judgement before you speak. One day, you might really say something you shouldn’t in front of a stranger.”
“I know.” Petra’s voice was muffled in Margaret’s lap. “I wish I could meet an American.”
“I think you will get your wish, my little one.” Father’s voice came from the doorway. He came to sit on the edge of the bed and hugged both of his daughters. “Though no more discussion of events outside of the family at any time.”
“Yes, sir!” Petra said. Her cheeks were red with excitement. Father looked a little sheepish.
“Margery, I approve your business proposition. In for a penny, in for a pound. Once we hear from your friends in Magdeburg, we’ll call in the weavers and discuss the future. We can’t do it without their cooperation. Heaven lend me strength.”
“Oh, Father!” Margaret beamed at him. She glanced up at Hettie, who only looked worried.
“Why are you scowling?” she asked.
“Well, mistress, now the real work begins.”