from the hedges, and for a time Margaret forgot to be sad. It was good to be outside, to breathe the icy air; it made her tingle with new life. She looked up at Roland, riding so easily alongside, his hands loosely on the reins; there was no doubt he was a very handsome man and she had made quite a catch. If only they had met in different circumstances; if only… He glanced towards her, almost as if he had read her thoughts, and their eyes met briefly, reminding her of the kiss that never was, before he turned back to negotiate an ice-covered pot-hole.
‘We should be able to skate tomorrow,’ Kate was saying. ‘Not on the river, of course—that’s too dangerous—but on the fen. There is a shallow stretch of water which is flooded every winter and is perfectly safe. Would you like that?’
Margaret pulled herself together. ‘I would certainly like to try, though whether I can stay upright remains to be seen.’
Kate laughed. ‘If the ice holds we’ll go tomorrow, and then we shall see.’
The Isle of Ely was a surprisingly small place, considering the size of the cathedral, and its roads were no more than muddy lanes, made slippery by frozen snow. Set on a small hill which had been an island in the days before the fens were drained, it had the usual quota of basket-makers, candle-makers, butchers, dairies, fish-sellers, blacksmiths, carriage-makers, coopers and the like, besides more than its fair share of inns and taverns. There was, as Kate had said, a dressmaker and, because it was a place of learning, a bookshop, tucked in the ancient walls close to the cathedral.
Once Margaret and Kate had been delivered at the door of the dressmaker’s tiny establishment, the two men went off on business of their own, promising to return in an hour. The dressmaker, a tiny little woman in a plain grey wool dress which did not fill Kate with confidence, dashed around laying out patterns and materials, talking the whole time to cover the fact that she was flustered to receive such illustrious customers. ‘If only I had known you were coming,’ she said. ‘I could have ordered more samples. Would you like me to send for some?’
‘No, I am afraid there is no time,’ Margaret said, deciding not to tell the woman that the gown was intended for her wedding; she was not sure if the dressmaker was capable of anything elaborate. If her mother, who was a first-class seamstress, had been alive, she would have had a wedding-dress the envy of the world. She sighed. If her mother had been alive, she would not have been in Ely choosing a wedding-gown in the first place. ‘I need something simple.’ She picked up a swatch of pale lilac taffeta. ‘This, I think.’
‘Margaret, it’s too plain!’ Kate exclaimed.
‘It can be trimmed with satin ribbon bows and lace in the neck and sleeves. I am in mourning, after all, and I don’t want anything too bright.’
Roland returned at that point to fetch them and Kate turned to appeal to him. ‘Look at this,’ she said, holding the swatch out to him. ‘Margaret wants to wear this.’
‘She may have whatever she chooses,’ he said, barely glancing at the material. ‘I am sure whatever she wears will look very well.’
There was no more argument and, having been promised that the gown would be ready in time, they joined Charles for nuncheon at the White Hart.
Kate chatted happily to the men and no one seemed to notice that Margaret was very quiet. She was thinking of the last time she had been there. Was it only two days before? So much had happened since then and her life had been turned round in a way she could never have foreseen. Was it for the good? Or had she put her head in a snare of her own making? If she had been able to see into the future, would she have ever left London? It was a question she could not answer.
Kate was laughing and talking about her own wedding, fixed for early spring. ‘I can hardly wait,’ she said, looking at Charles. ‘Can you?’
He reached across and put his hand on hers. ‘No, and I see no reason why we should. Shall we bring it forward? Shall we have a double wedding?’
‘Could we?’ Kate’s eyes were bright. ‘What do you think, Roland? After all, I am in mourning for Papa.’
‘Your father approved the match,’ Charles said. ‘He would not have objected.’ He turned to Roland with a boyish grin. ‘What do you say?’
‘I don’t see why not.’ Roland lifted an enquiring eyebrow in Margaret’s direction. ‘Would you like that?’
‘I think I should like it very much,’ she said, then to Kate, ‘But are you sure? Were you not thinking of a grand occasion with a great many friends and a big banquet?’
‘If you can go without that, then so can we. My gown is ready and has been hanging in my closet for weeks. It is red taffeta, embroidered with pearls and scarlet ribbons.’ She jumped up excitedly. ‘Oh, let’s go back and break the news to Grandmama.’
Five minutes later, they were once again tucked up under the sheepskins on the sled and on their way back. Kate’s obvious happiness and the fact that she was known and liked locally would ensure that the dual wedding was a joyful occasion and might divert attention from Margaret herself who, try as she might, could not bring herself to rejoice. She was being thoroughly nonsensical, she told herself; she should not be sad. Many a young girl had gone to her wedding without being in love and it had turned out well in the end. Love was not a prerequisite for a successful marriage, never had been, never would be; what was important was to respect and admire the man you were to marry and know that you would be treated with courtesy and kindness. And it was not difficult to admire him, though she certainly did not understand him. He was riding alongside now, deep in thought, as if he were struggling with some weighty mathematical problem.
When they arrived back at the Manor, they were told that a package had arrived for Mistress Donnington, which had been put in her room.
‘A package?’ Margaret queried. ‘But no one knows I’m here.’
‘Someone evidently does,’ Kate said, hurrying upstairs, leaving Margaret to follow more sedately. She was puzzled. No one knew where she was except the people at the Manor and Great-Uncle Henry, and she could not imagine him taking the trouble to wrap anything and send it to her. She entered her chamber to find that Kate had flung off her heavy cloak and draped it across a chair and was standing by the bed gazing down at a rather large box, tied with ribbon.
‘Oh, do hurry and open it,’ she said. ‘Is there a message?’
Margaret suppressed her own curiosity in order to take off her coat and boots and put them tidily away as she always did; servants or no, it was a habit she would find hard to break. Then she carefully untied the ribbon, lifted the lid of the box and pulled aside its cotton lining. ‘Oh!’ Carefully she drew out a magnificent open-skirted gown in a heavy ivory satin. The bodice was square-necked with three-quarter sleeves which ended in a froth of pleated lace. The hem and neckline and the stiffened stomacher were heavily beaded in a rose pattern. ‘Oh, it is exquisite!’
‘A wedding-gown,’ Kate whispered in awe, while Margaret delved into the box and drew out a piece of paper, half expecting a note from Roland saying he had decided against the gown she had chosen in Ely. It would explain his cursory glance at the material. But why had he not said anything at the time? And where could he have come by such a lavish creation? She found herself wondering if it had been meant for someone else, but she pushed the thought from her; she did not want to think about that.
‘What does it say?’ Kate asked eagerly.
‘It is from Great-Uncle Henry,’ Margaret said, stifling
