A Lady's Fate

Chapter Twenty-Four - Mary

There was one particular moment which stood out to Mary as the most mortifying she had ever experienced.

She had been fifteen years of age at the time, not long having commenced her service as Margaret's maid. Despite being trained in the art of dressing and styling a lady, Mary was still learning some of the finer points of her role when Margaret embarked on a family drive in the country one summer's day.

Selecting a dress was simple enough; Margaret had ample dresses for this very purpose, and so it was only a matter of choosing one in a hue which Mary thought became her mistress. The styling of the hair did not pose too much of a problem – pinning it seemed the most sensible option, leaving just a few ringlets to frame Margaret's delicate, heart-shaped face.

When it came to the final article of clothing, however, Mary found herself at rather a loss. As someone with a particular dislike towards bonnets, Mary had never bothered with one herself, and had not paid particular attention when being taught the importance of this garment for protecting a lady from the sun and wind whilst riding in an open carriage. Nevertheless, she duly selected the least obtrusive one she could find amongst Margaret's collection, knotting the silk ribbon under Margaret's chin.

Upon glancing at herself in the mirror, however, Margaret immediately expressed her dissatisfaction. The ribbon had to be tied in a bow, she insisted – it was only proper to do so. And so, Mary had gritted her teeth and picked apart the knot, retying the slippery strands of fabric in some semblance of a bow, resting just beneath Margaret's chin. The material did not quite make contact with Margaret's chin, but Mary did not think it mattered – with the corset already restricting Margaret's breathing, there was no need for her to be half-choked by her bonnet as well.

But only an hour later, Mary was to discover what a grievous mistake she had made.

It was with great surprise that she had spied the Thorpe barouche reappearing in the driveway not an hour after it had departed. Peering closely from her attic room window, she attempted to discover what was amiss - clapping her hand to her mouth in horror moments later as she spotted Miss Thorpe's bonnet-less head.

Clattering downstairs as fast as she could, Mary found herself met by a mutinous Mrs Thorpe in the entrance hall – and from the expression on her mistress' face, Mary knew that she was in severe trouble.

The securing of Margaret's bonnet, it transpired, had not been sufficient for such a blustery day – for in one large gust of wind as the barouche swept across the moor, the garment had been ripped clean off her head!

This in itself was bad enough – worse still was that the vicar's son had happened to be out riding that very afternoon, witnessing the entire scene.

"We shall never be welcomed in our own church again!" Mrs Thorpe had wailed. "And it is entirely your fault – wayward, foolish girl!"

Mary had cringed under the weight of the formidable woman's wrath, certain this was to be her final day in employment. Thanks to a heartfelt plea from Margaret, this turned out not to be the case – but the excruciating memory remained raw in Mary's mind to this day, of the time she had let her mistress down. From that day forth, Mary had vowed never to disappoint someone she respected in such a way again.

Yet now she had let another down, in the most excruciating of ways.

Sir Edmund did not speak as he led the way across the perfectly manicured lawn, barely sparing Mary a backwards glance to ensure she was keeping pace. Luckily, Mary was a brisk walker, but even she found herself a little short of breath when Sir Edmund came to a halt beside the magnificent fountain with its Grecian marble statue, a little way off to the side from the main gardens.