The soft knock of dawn against her lodge window drew Margaret from sleep. A thin blade of morning light slipped through the lace curtains of her room, resting on the polished wood floor and over the faint outline of her travel trunk. She sat up slowly, pushing aside her heavy velvet quilt and stretched. Today was the day of the fundraising at Royal Clarendon Hall.
Ellen was already up, arranging Margaret's bath. Steam curled from the basin as the scent of lavender soap filled the room. Margaret sank into the warm water and let the quiet of the morning calm her restless heart. Yet, no amount of calm could stop her thoughts from drifting toward Jonathan. It had been months since they had spoken face to face and even though they have exchanged some letters, she had also written to him about the fundraising, she could not shake the unease that had followed ever since.
When she stepped out, Ellen had already laid out the gown, The Twilight Empress. The deep-purple satin shimmered faintly under the lamplight, its bodice fitted perfectly to her frame, with delicate silver beadwork winding down to the hem. It was a gown designed to make an impression, regal and understated all at once.
Ellen fastened the final pearl button and stepped back in awe.
"You look divine, My Lady" she whispered.
Margaret smiled faintly. "Do you think so?"
"I do. London will have its eyes on you today."
Margaret turned toward the mirror, studying her reflection. The colour deepened her pale skin and made her eyes glow like violet glass. Ellen began styling her hair, an elegant twist pinned high, with a few soft curls left loose to frame her face. The result was breathtaking.
"What of the gift?" Margaret asked quietly.
Ellen, still holding a silver comb, nodded toward the dresser. "It's intact, miss. Shall we take it along to the hall?"
"Yes," Margaret replied after a pause. "I had thought of inviting Jonathan to the inn, but…" she trailed off. Mr. Hargrave's words echoed in her mind: Do not disturb him unnecessarily. "No, we shall give it to him at the fundraising."
Breakfast was served shortly after, fluffy rolls, butter, boiled eggs and tea that smelled faintly of mint. Ellen set the tray by the window while Mr. Fletcher, her driver, was served in his own room. The morning was cool and London's early fog still pressed against the glass panes.
Between sips of tea, Ellen began chatting about the city.
"I overheard someone yesterday saying that the Queen herself once attended a musical here in Clarendon Hall. Imagine that! London must be full of wonder."
Margaret laughed softly. "Indeed, it is. I wonder if Jonathan ever gets tired of it."
Ellen giggled. "Perhaps not, miss. Men like him seem to find charm in every corner of the city."
Their conversation drifted from London's beauty to its people, their accents, their fashions and how every passer-by seemed to carry a purpose in their step. Time melted away in their laughter until a knock at the door startled them both.
Ellen rose quickly. "Who is there?"
"It's Fletcher, miss," came the familiar, courteous voice.
She opened the door, and the driver bowed slightly. "Pardon me, Miss Williams, but it's time. The car clock just struck eleven. The program begins at noon."
Margaret gasped softly. "Heavens! I hadn't realised how late it was." She glanced at the small gold watch pinned to her dress. "We must go at once. I told Jonathan to arrive early so we might speak before the event."
Within minutes, she was wrapped in her white fox-fur coat, its long, soft strands brushing against her gloves. Ellen followed her down the stairs with the small wrapped gift, an ornate gold pocket watch and an handkerchief engraved with her name initials MW crested on both, something she had chosen with care.
At the entrance, Mr. Fletcher opened the door of her sleek Allure by Ebony & Co. Motors automobile. The polished navy-blue metal gleamed under the morning sun, a marvel of modern craftsmanship. The inn's staff, who remembered the incident of the previous evening, watched her in quiet admiration. The same waiters and maids who had seen her remain calm amidst the quarrelsome lady now whispered about her grace. They bowed and greeted warmly as she passed and she returned each greeting with a polite smile before stepping elegantly into the car.
The drive to Royal Clarendon Hall was short but beautiful. London's cobblestone streets were alive with sound, the ring of carriage wheels, the hum of conversation, the distant cry of a street vendor selling newspapers. Margaret sat back, watching the rows of lamps and shopfronts blur past. Her heart fluttered each time she thought of seeing Jonathan again.
"Do you suppose he will already be there?" Ellen asked softly.
Margaret hesitated. "I hope so. I should hate to walk in without him."
When they reached the Hall, the grand building loomed before them, bathed in sunlight. White marble pillars framed the entrance and banners bearing the royal insignia waved proudly above. Crowds of finely dressed guests entered through the gates, their jewels glinting like stars.
Mr. Fletcher stopped before the main entrance and stepped out quickly to open her door. Margaret emerged with quiet dignity, the tails of her gown brushing the steps. She scanned the crowd for Jonathan, but there was no sign of him.
A uniformed attendant approached. "Good morning, madam. May I see your invitation?"
Ellen produced the sealed envelope and handed it to him. The man examined the gold embossing, nodded and turned to a colleague. After confirming the authenticity, he smiled respectfully. "A VVIP invitation, madam. You are most welcome. Here is your tag."
He handed Margaret a delicate golden tag engraved Royal Clarendon Fundraiser – VVIP and another, simpler one to Ellen.
"Is she the only guests accompanying you?" he asked.
"No," Margaret replied. "Our driver will be joining us shortly and my fiancé, Mr. Jonathan Hargrave, is also expected."
The man checked his list but frowned slightly. "No record of that name on our entries, madam. Perhaps he will arrive later."
"He will," Margaret said firmly.
A young lady from the protocol team stepped forward. "If you please, Lady Williams, your seat is ready. Shall I escort you in?"
Margaret shook her head politely. "I shall wait for my partner. When he arrives, we will enter together."
The lady hesitated, then smiled understandingly. "As you wish. You may wait near the side veranda; you can see the gates from there."
She was led to a small shaded area near the entrance. Ellen and Mr. Fletcher stood quietly behind her as guests continued to pour in. Every passing minute tugged at her nerves.
She kept glancing at the clock on the wall. Half an hour passed. Then forty-five minutes.
"Perhaps he was delayed," Ellen said softly.
Margaret nodded but said nothing. When the clock neared noon, she sighed and forced a calm smile. "Go in, both of you. The program is about to begin. I'll join you shortly."
They hesitated, but at her insistence, they followed the usher inside.
When she finally entered, the grand hall was alive with glittering chandeliers and rows of elegantly dressed guests. The sound of violins filled the air, soft and regal. She was guided to her seat at the front, the VVIP section, where she could see the stage clearly. Behind her, she noticed Ellen and Mr. Fletcher take their seats among the assistants.
The host, a tall gentlewoman in a smart white dress, stepped forward and took the microphone. Her voice boomed through the hall.
"Welcome, distinguished guests, to this year's Royal Clarendon Fundraising. Our goal today is noble, to raise funds for the construction of the Royal Orphanage Home, a place of comfort and hope for the less privileged. Each benefactor's name shall be inscribed upon its walls as a lasting testament of generosity."
A polite wave of applause swept through the hall.
Margaret listened attentively as the first few donors gave their speeches. The atmosphere brimmed with excitement and purpose. When her name was finally announced, she rose gracefully, holding her card.
"Lady Margaret Williams of Hampstead Estate," the announcer declared.
Margaret smiled faintly as she stood. She began to speak of kindness, of her late parents' legacy and of her belief that compassion was the greatest crown one could ever wear. The crowd listened intently.
But then...
Her voice faltered. A ripple of awareness passed through her. She turned instinctively toward the entrance.
There, beneath the gilded archway, stood Jonathan.
Her heart gave a painful twist. He had come, but not alone. A young woman clung to his arm, her gown of pale blue glinting under the chandeliers. The woman's hand rested lightly yet possessively against his sleeve and they both looked radiant.
For a heartbeat, Margaret could not breathe. Then she caught herself, straightened and continued speaking, her tone composed, almost distant.
Jonathan froze where he stood. He had recognised her voice before he even looked up and when their eyes met, shock spread across his face.
Margaret finished her speech, gave her donation envelope to the attendant and sat down quietly, her fingers trembling beneath her gloves.
Jonathan, uncertain and visibly uneasy, allowed Evelyn to lead him to their seats a few rows behind.
Margaret stared straight ahead, her expression serene and unbothered, but inside, something delicate had shattered.